Broken Promises
by Strawberry Requiem
Summary: When a promise is broken, it tests the fragility of the bonds that those entangled in it shared. Multiple Hawkes. Multiple POV. Hawke(F)xAnders/IsabelaxHawke(M)xFenris. Contains: Violence, Language, Sexual Content.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a bit unorthodox, I know, but this story will feature a pair of Hawkes as brother and sister. My reasoning is due to the ambiguity of Hawke's age in-game and the fact that I've come to associate my Hawke very strongly with a friend's Hawke. I am at a point now where I have trouble separating the two, so I decided to write this fanfiction from the perspective of there being a four Hawke children.

This story is the sequel to Painting Your Roses.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

The Blight hit with little warning.

For most, at least, this was the truth. Fereldens were usually fairly stubborn, even when the truth was smacking them in the face. They would much rather hide in their homes and pretend that life was going on the same as it did the day before. But of course, this was not true. Anyone with eyes could see that the Darkspawn were growing bold, attacking the surface with a reckless abandon that would betray the theory that their numbers had been wiped out during the fourth Blight.

Claudia was content in doing nothing to stop the invasion, though she was keenly aware that it was truly occurring. She had enough on her plate, what with two apostates to keep out of the Chantry's sight and five mouths to feed. It would be easier just to flee the country, to set up base anew in Orlais, or somewhere equally as foreign. But, that would require learning a new language and dealing with self-absorbed pricks who would always treat her as being lesser because she was born in Ferelden.

No matter how intent she was on avoiding enlisting, fate had another thing in store for her. One day, when she was about her routine errands in the village, a recruiter for King Cailan's army was posted looking for able-bodied men and women to help with the Darkspawn threat. Claudia tactfully avoided the Chantry, not that she normally had much business there. Mostly everyone in Lothering knew that she was clever with a pair of daggers and could disarm traps with her eyes closed. The crown didn't need to know that, though. Yet, as she returned home, she was displeased to find Carver making his case to their mother as to why he should be allowed to enlist.

The scene that unfolded was a typical one for their household, but trying, nonetheless. Carver was just short of yelling his demands. He was always so angry, mostly due to his young age and the constant hiding. Their mother was unwavering. Her youngest _would not_ enlist to fight Darkspawn, especially after she lost her husband to them just three short years ago. Claudia cringed at her argument, but continued to put away the things she had procured at the shop. Poor Quentin was sitting at the dining table, desperately trying to diffuse the situation with playful banter and offering to brew up some calming tea.

He looked so much like their father, Quentin did. It was a fact that their mother often reminded him of whenever he was being particularly complacent and agreeable. His dirty-blonde locks hung in his face in a similar fashion, denoting the fact that he was either too busy or too lazy to get a proper trim. The state of his three-day stubble also contributed to this. Their father had been the same. He was much too busy training Quentin and Bethany to hide their magic that he never bothered to get a shave. The one difference Claudia could pick out without going too far into genetics was his electric-blue eyes. Those were the ones that both their mother and Carver wore, as well as Claudia. The similarities only grew the more he attempted to calm the arguing pair.

Claudia, on the other hand, spent the first eight years of her life thinking she was some orphan child that their parents had picked up on the side of the road and took pity on. Due to her shock of burgundy waves that none of the Hawke children besides her possessed, it made it easy for Quentin to tease her about her parentage. Whenever he was feeling particularly prickly, or she had done something cruel to him, he would remind her that her "real" parents hadn't wanted her. Claudia never cried. Oh no. Tears were for the weak, so instead, she would exact her revenge by hitting Quentin until _he_ cried. Then, she would spend the following days with punishments like no dessert, or helping their mother care for the twins.

Even so, she grew into an attractive woman, one who favored her mother's side much more favorably than in her youth. People would comment on how she looked high-bred, like generations of careful breeding when into her sultry pout and womanly figure. Their mother would often remark upon how she looked so positively _Amell_ , even down to her waves of red hair. So, Claudia assumed that she really was the product of planned reproduction. Unlike Quentin, her resemblance to their father was rarely mentioned, save when she was being a sarcastic clown. The same phrase always accompanied this mood: _you're just like your father._

Their argument had risen to a fever pitch, one that roused Bethany from the other room. She had been poring over her grimoire in secret, but could not concentrate with her twin's yelling. Claudia, on the other hand, was amused. It was nice to not be the one on the chopping block for once.

It wasn't long, however, until their attention turned to her.

First, their mother chastised her for propping her feet on the table like a heathen. Claudia remembered it well because it was when things started to tip into an unfavorable direction for her. Carver looked at her, at first to cast her a cold look, for he knew she was drawing enjoyment out of his suffering. But, it shifted. His blue eyes sparked, then shot back to their mother with promise.

"Can I enlist if Claudia does so as well?"

* * *

 _Can I enlist if Claudia does so as well._

This phrase was the fuel for much of Claudia's frustration the next passing weeks. Naturally, their mother agreed to those conditions. While Quentin was the oldest, his capabilities with magic made it unlikely that his services would be suggested. So, Claudia was the second-best option. She remembered how her younger brother practically ripped her from her seat and dragged her to the recruiter. The man was older, with an eyepatch. She only recalled his missing eye due to her inquiring about how he lost it in the first place. Carver was mortified, which humored her.

The next few weeks were the most grueling that Claudia had ever faced. The training was excruciating. Due to her roguish nature, she was often sent to scout the Wilds, which she hated. Bad memories surfaced, ones that, while she couldn't quite grasp, were still there and made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. More pitiful than that was back at camp, when she would see that small encampment that the Templars circled around like hungry vultures. Claudia had half a mind to do _something_ to deter the Templars just long enough to give their charges a taste at real freedom. Her siblings and father had been lucky; with her watching their backs, at least they got to experience life outside of the Circle.

But, the worst yet was that battle.

None of the training, none of the morale-boosting speeches given by the King or that bearded Gray Warden whose name she forgot the second it was mentioned had prepared her for that night. The rain came swiftly and suddenly. It seeped into her leathers and chilled her down to the bone. She was a rogue, and better fit for flanking the enemy than meeting them head on, so she was assigned to a battalion destined just for that. Before she could even see them, Claudia could feel as they approached down to her very core. Darkspawn were horribly grotesque creatures, ones that had plagued her nightmares since her father's death. And, they carried with them a noxious odor of death and decay. Those with her that hadn't seen such a horror before had not anticipated it, few even vomited at the stench. Claudia's own stomach had begun doing backflips, ready to expel its contents. She bade it to still, though acknowledged that it would do her little good if she became sick.

The actual battle, though short lived, felt as if it had dragged on for hours. Flanking an enemy was difficult when so many were pouring into the field that she couldn't count. And, there was the nastiness that was the taint they carried in them. Claudia could out-maneuver them any day, which was as useful skill as any out on the field. Still, it did little good when that black ichor fountained up out of their wounds every time one of the warriors sliced off a limb or through a torso.

Morale was already at an all-time low, but as those mammoth ogres charged the field, a real, palpable fear settled in. Claudia witnessed first-hand as one crushed the King like a grape. The whole field erupted in a cacophony of anguish for their fallen monarch. Then, the signal flared up, the signal that was supposed to summon more troops to the field. They were fighting a losing battle against an unpredictable foe and desperately needed the reinforcements. No one showed, and more blood was shed.

Claudia considered this her time to quit the field as well. After finding Carver, which was very much a story for another time, they abandoned their posts. Lothering was their destination, and warning the hamlet of the impending destruction was their goal.

* * *

Claudia was lying in bed, her arms lazily situated behind her head. She was focused on a particular knot in the ceiling, watching it with some interest as the sounds of Carver polishing his greatsword filled her ears. After they had abandoned Ostagar, they were on the run. It was a grueling struggle, one that amounted to exhaustion. They had both been fatigued from combat already. Both suffering minor wounds as well. Neither knew anything of medicinal herbs, except that elfroot was used in healing potions.

"I still don't think it's a wise idea to be squatting in someone's house while we heal." Complained Carver.

Over the course of the two hours they had been there, he had brought up this point about six times, not that Claudia was counting. She was far more concerned with her newfound Mabari companion, whom she had taken to calling Ser Biscuit. The dog had found them just prior to stumbling upon the house, and had apparently taken a liking to Claudia. He was in the bed with her, hulking head resting in her lap. Occasionally, he'd swipe his moist tongue upon her knuckles in a sign of affection.

"I'm sure they'll understand." Claudia mused. "People absolutely _love_ having complete strangers pick their locks and sleep in their beds."

Carver scoffed. "We can do without the sarcasm right now, Claudia."

"Oh, but _little_ Carver," she begun, rolling over the word _little_ with a particularly cruel undertone, "if I don't laugh, I fear I may burst into tears at this very moment!" The woman feigned upset, her arm draping over her forehead as if to imply a fear of fainting. "With our King dead, I fear of what will become of Ferelden."

"Can you not act like a complete bitch for once?" Carver bit off his words angrily. Though she couldn't see him from her post on the bed, Claudia was positive that he was glaring. "Ferelden is going to enter a state of absolute chaos, and you're making light of it."

Claudia shrugged. This adjustment caused the dog in her lap to shift, anticipating that she was about to leave the bed. "They'll figure something out. Maybe Maric has a secret lovechild floating about somewhere and he'll ascend the throne."

"You're spouting nonsense."

"Am I?"

Carver silenced, not from seeing her side of the argument, but from not wanting to incur further ridiculous remarks from his older sister. This was well enough for Claudia, who had since chased the languid Mabari hound from her lap and risen to her feet. Time was wasting, and the horde was growing closer by the minute. She doubted if Darkspawn took routine breaks as they had; they probably trampled over their fatigued as they fell to the ground in exhaustion. Claudia didn't really want to think about it.

Taking her lead, Carver rose as well. His comically large sword was fastened to the strap upon his back, signifying that he, too, was ready to take his leave. Before doing so, he cast his older sister a look, an accusatory glance that suggested that she had purloined some of the possessions of the people who called the small cottage home. In response, Claudia revealed her empty palms and patted down her leathers as if she were on trial. Normally, he would have cause for concern, but in that moment, the woman was far too tired for searching through chests and drawers for shiny coins and potentially valuable baubles that she could pawn.

Lothering was only a couple-hour walk from their position in the cottage. As a trading outpost, most roads in Ferelden crossed through there. Claudia didn't want to travel the roads, however. With the Blight being a potential threat, she imagined that there were a lot of shifty people traveling them. Carver had, to her surprise, agreed to braving the brush. It was a longer walk, sure enough, but safer still. And, she doubted if the horde would be able to pursue through dense foliage as readily as two humans were able to.

To neither of their surprise, Lothering was in a state of chaos. Refugees from all over the southern part of Ferelden were densely packed into the sleepy hamlet. Claudia and Carver could scarcely navigate the narrow roads for fear of stepping on someone who might have set up camp in the pathways. Many were poor, dirty, and most likely have been sleeping out in the cold all night. Some of the Templars who often reported at the Chantry were trying to direct these poor souls in that direction, but there were just so many that they appeared to be having the reverse effect.

The Hawke residence was technically in the outskirts of Lothering, which made it easier to keep Quentin and Bethany concealed. It wasn't a big house; the cottage was a small, three-room residence that the five of them shared. Bethany and Claudia shared their mother's room with her since their father's passing, while Carver and Quentin resided in the other. And, it was the first place that the Hawke family could truly call home.

There was an ominous feeling that cloaked Claudia as she stepped into the door, Carver trailing close behind. Bethany, Quentin, and their mother were all sitting around the table, satchels filled to the gills with small, sentimental possessions and sundry goods. The staves that both mages used were propped up against the wall nearest the door. Crude blades were fixed to the bottom of each with lengths of rope and leather. They looked secure enough, though.

"Claudia! Carver!" Their mother leaped from her chair at the sight of her children and embraced the both of them tenderly. She studied Carver's face carefully, brows knitting together when she took in the sight of the various nicks and cuts that dappled his skin. When she made her way to Claudia, she pushed her hair from her face and studied her with the same intensity that she wore with her son.

"Thank the Maker you're both okay."

"A few Darkspawn are no match for me, Mother." Claudia's chest puffed out proudly in an effort to convince the others that she was confident in her abilities. They didn't need to know of the fear that she wore in her heart.

"Still," Said their mother, brushing aside her eldest daughter's claims, "I worried for the both of you and prayed every day for your safe return."

Claudia held little faith in prayers or the Maker. But, she also did not wish to start an argument so soon after walking through the door. It brought her mother comfort, which was enough to bring her comfort for the time being. Still, their packed possessions and overall agitated demeanor troubled the young woman. She had been sure that she and Carver were the first to make it out of Ostagar alive. And yet, they appeared to have received news of the impending Darkspawn horde nearly a day before their arrival.

"Dare I ask where we're headed off to in such a hurry?"

Quentin shrugged casually. "You wouldn't believe it, but a group of Wardens came through here and warned us of the horde headed in this direction." While not typically strange, Claudia _was_ fairly sure that they had all died on the field with King Cailan. Her brother had more to say, however, so she resisted the urge to butt in and mention this. "They took that Qunari and Carver's _girlfriend_ with them, too."

Carver tensed up at the word girlfriend, which elicited an amused grunt out of the two eldest children. They boy had developed a crush on a Cloister Sister who was new to Lothering's Chantry. She was a pretty sort, with lovely red hair and a subtle Orlesian accent that drew in the masses. Quentin and Claudia took a cruel sort of pleasure in teasing their younger sibling about it, despite their mother's urging to stop pressing him.

"What of these Wardens?" Asked Claudia, neglecting her chosen pastime for once. "What sort of people were they? Can their word even be trusted?"

Again, Quentin shrugged. "Not sure. I was so distracted by how attractive the lot of them were. Before that, I had thought the order to be a bunch of grisly, battle-hardened men with missing limbs and covered in scars. These ones were strapping young men and comely—"

"—Quentin." Urged their mother.

"Sorry. Anyway, we really haven't the time to dally. Quickly gather anything that is of value to you so we can head off."

Carver folded his arms, visibly displeased with this plan. Claudia knew that it was probably ill-planned, given the rushed manner in which they were forced to devise it. Just by the way Quentin spoke, he was anticipating them to ask where they were headed. And, judging by how his eyes shifted around the room uncomfortably, he hadn't the answer to that question. Claudia couldn't blame him. If the tables had been turned, she doubted if she could have conceived a believable escape out. But, time was ticking, lending her no time to contemplate their next action.

"I suppose we have little option, then. We run."

Carver was visibly displeased. His arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowing over both of his older siblings in the gesture. "Where are we supposed to head, exactly? We haven't much coin, and the whole south of Ferelden is inaccessible _due_ to the horde."

Claudia was already in the other room. She had left the door open as to remain a valid participant in the conversation. At the foot of her bed was a chest where she kept her worldly possessions, though few were important in the face of danger. Her fingers danced over the one good dress she owned, mentally checking it off her list of priorities in the process. There were a few other things she considered, but eventually dropped into the trunk to leave. These mainly consisted of toys that she had convinced herself had sentimental value, a sparing stack of bound love letters that she read to get a laugh, and some loose jewelry with little monetary value, but it was pretty enough to look at. Only two things resided in the chest that she truly cared about: her father's wedding band and his grimoire. The ring was easy to locate; she had it laced through some of the cording on her dress as to not lose it. However, the book was nowhere to be seen. Claudia tore through her possessions, each one fluttering across the room as she flung them about like a merciless tornado. Even after she had evacuated everything, the book was not there.

In her haste, Claudia barreled into the main living quarters. She wasn't upset, but in a hurried frenzy that just wouldn't be sated until it was found. The remaining four looked at her strangely. Carver was already packed with a satchel that she assumed to be filled with useful things, though the hilt of his favorite wooden sword that he used to train with as a child was poking out.

"Where is father's grimoire?" Demanded Claudia. Her hand drifted to her hip, making her look far more upset about the situation than she truly was.

Quentin's gaze shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh…I took it out of your trunk."

Silence filled the room. Everyone seemed sure that Claudia would become angry with him over this development. Surely, he was looking for something embarrassing to tease her with. She had gotten him good the last time, and the family was still convinced he was out for revenge.

"It's not like you have any need for a grimoire!" Shouted the blonde in his defense. "And, we weren't even sure that you survived the battle!"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, dearest Brother." Remarked the red-haired woman with cold sarcasm.

"Regardless of what we believed, we really should be going." Their mother was uneasy, and understandably so. They were wasting much time. And, with how much ground they had to cover before they could feasibly call themselves safe, arguing amongst themselves over a book was probably not the best of ideas.

"You're right." Bethany chimed, having been silent throughout most of the discussion. She reached for her bag off the table and slung it over her shoulder for safe keeping. "We haven't much time to be wasting on such trivial things."

The other three nodded in agreement. Each divvied up the remaining packs amongst themselves, though were conscious enough to supply their mother with a few healing poultices and a small hunting knife in case things became dangerous for her. There was an unspoken agreement laid out that they would all watch for her safety above their own. They each had some form of martial training, whereas she hadn't.

No more words were exchanged as they spent the last remaining moments in their familial home. Memories came and went, memories of a simpler time, when the twins were still children and Father was still alive. Holidays were spent as a family around that table. The tall tales their father used to weave still burned in the hearts of each and every one of them. Every memory felt fresh, like they were reliving them one last time before they had to say goodbye forever. None bothered with clinging to the hope that their home would still be intact after the Darkspawn ravaged everything.

One last fawning look was cast into the house that once filled to brimming with such life and love, then, the door shut behind them for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I apologize for the absence. Some familial issues occurred as well as some other issues that were out of my hands, making me unable to write. Thank you for waiting and being patient.

Disclaimer: I don't normally post disclaimers on my stories, but given the subject matter of this one, I feel I have to. This story will be very Anders-heavy. If you don't like him as a character, that's fine and I have no problem with that, but please respect the fact that I do happen to like him and don't leave negative comments just because you dislike him. This has happened to me in the past, where people have told me that I ended my story "wrong" just because I didn't kill off a character they didn't like. Or, flamed just to vent their hatred of the character out on me (and yes, both of these have happened in regards to Anders being a central character in the past). Again, if you don't like him, that's fine, and you don't have to read beyond this point if you don't want to. Thank you.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Upon stepping out of the small house, the Hawke family was transported to an entirely different world. All around them, people were running in terror from the horror known as Darkspawn. The horde was fresh upon the trading outpost, their numbers small still, but growing more by the second. People were fleeing in every direction imaginable, carrying what sparring possessions their arms could hold. Many still were being cut down by the nightmarish foes that stalked the landscape in search of fresh targets.

Ser Biscuit was on alert. Though they were on the outskirts still, the dog barked menacingly, threatening the twisted monsters. His barks were a warning, daring them to tread a step closer to the cottage, lest they wish to face his savage bite. Claudia gave the hound an approving pat on the head, to which he responded with his tongue lulling out of his mouth happily.

Bethany cast the dog a curious glance, though Quentin seemed completely unfazed. Their mother was rather nervous, looking for an escape route that they could exploit as quickly as possible. Being such a large group, the five of them could easily become separated, and that would be an unfavorable outcome.

"I'll scout ahead." Announced Claudia, eyes shifting around the landscape as she surveyed it for an agreeable path. "Carver will follow behind me while Bethany and Quentin stay close to Mother." The woman rounded the group, approaching her elder brother. She extended her hand out to him, asking without words for some of the poultices and salves she knew he had prepared for this very occasion.

"Give some to Carver as well. We can't heal with magic, so we'll need to carry more with us."

"I agree." Quentin was curt with his response. This was understandable, given their situation.

Claudia stuffed the small vials into her leather satchel hastily. The glass clinked together melodiously, causing Biscuit's ears to perk at the sound. Bethany rewarded this with a brief ear rub.

"If we get separated, we'll head to Redcliffe and rendezvous there." Already, Claudia was heading towards the Imperial Highway. She was not one for wasting time, not when the Darkspawn were growing dangerously closer to their home. Carver was only a pace behind her. She could tell by the way he was huffing out his breaths that he was upset by her taking leadership. It was nothing new, and normally, she brushed off his diminutive treatment of her with jokes and sarcasm.

And, Carver seemed far from letting this perceived transgression pass.

"Who made you head of the household?" He barked at Claudia. She bothered not with turning to face him; she needed to concentrate on navigation.

"Father."

Quentin's response came in unison to Claudia's. Bethany giggled slightly, finding amusement despite their grim situation. The pair often agreed on issues, that was no surprise. And, after Father's passing, they both had known that someone needed to take care of the family. Quentin, being a mage, did not wish to take on the responsibility. He feared being exposed, even on the most mundane of tasks. That would be bad. A consensus was reached that Claudia was much better with handling the responsibility. She had done her best to secure the protection of their family for most of her life, even if her parents bade her not to. And, she was good at it. Listening in to private conversations that the Templars shared with one another was easy when they couldn't discern you from the shadows. And, it was much easier for a non-apostate to find work, due to not being debilitated by the fear that someone would eventually find out a terrible little secret.

Carver huffed, but let the issue drop there. That was probably for the best. The Darkspawn were bolstering in numbers, charging in their direction as fast as their grotesque legs could take them. Their cries, if they could even be called that, were horrific. Some uttered threats over a loose understanding of the King's Tongue. Though, the main bulk of them gurgled out unearthly noises, filling the Hawke family with a foreboding sense of terror.

Claudia was sure that she suffered the bulk of it. Still, she rushed ahead, already-fatigued legs screaming in agony under the added effort. In her chest, her heart was beating rapidly, exerting a force that made her short of breath. She was the nimblest and quickest on her feet, though, so rushing ahead of their small band to find clear passages was her duty alone.

And, for a time, this was little issue. They managed to make it roughly half an hour from their home of seven years with little consequence. Small groups of Darkspawn, numbering no more than four, had found them on several instances. These were quickly dispatched, often by Carver, Claudia, and their faithful Mabari even before the others had become wise of their presence. It was better this way. Letting any of the beasts get close enough to their mother was not an option.

However, with exhaustion setting in, their pace slowed and the horde began to gain ground.

Despite her best efforts, Claudia struggled to find safe passage devoid of hostile encounters at each turn. Their numbers had grown dense, bold. Darkspawn lacked that carnal fear of death that humans like them possessed. As such, they attacked like unrelenting warriors. On several occasions, Claudia had attempted to evade them. She herself was proficient in sneaking, but the others, not so much. All it took was the snapping of a twig, or a misplaced clear of the throat to attract attention to their hidden positions. Quentin, Bethany, and their mother were always sent to a safer distance while she and Carver handled it. Quentin, despite the distance, was a good supplement to their more martial styles. He was talented with various elemental-based magics, which helped with felling many of the Darkspawn who could have easily encumbered his siblings.

After one such encounter, they were fatigued beyond the ability to continue running. Claudia was surveying the landscape from atop a rocky outcropping, a grim look settled on her face. A group of Hurlocks was wise to their position, already making efforts to clamor up towards them. She said nothing to the others. If they hadn't known already, they would have to be deaf and blind. The Blight provided not even a solitary moment's reprieve.

"We can't keep running forever." Heaved out Bethany. She was doubled over, desperately sucking in air. Quentin was beside her, balancing her staff in the hand that currently didn't encapsulate his own.

"Maybe we'll be lucky." Hummed Claudia, voice full of sarcasm already.

Carver rolled his eyes before even hearing the punchline.

"Maybe they'll run out of Darkspawn."

"And _there_ she goes!" Groaned Carver.

"Children, please!" Their mother's voice rang out like a bell, ceasing any rebuttal Claudia had planned for the occasion.

"Bethany is right, though." Chimed Quentin, acting as the voice of reason. "What is our plan? To…to _outrun_ the Blight? I hate to be the one to point this out, but we'd have better luck keeping it at bay with Carver's nasty sneers and Claudia's off-putting humor."

Neither responded to Quentin's remark with anything short of an icy glare.

"I'm just saying," He continued to explain, "Where are we going to go?"

No one spoke a word. From all around, the acerbic sounds of the Darkspawn approaching grew louder. Claudia's fingers danced over the hilts of her blades, ready to draw them at the earliest convenience. She hadn't any ideas to contribute to a possible destination. Nowhere seemed safe, at least, nowhere in Ferelden. The Blight was rooted here, so it would ravage the nation without remorse. This she knew.

The sounds had grown to a point of instilling madness when their mother's face grew light and hopeful. All four of them looked to her, hoping she had some wisdom to impart on them as she had for their entire lives.

"We could go to Kirkwall."

"What's in Kirkwall?" Asked Quentin, unamused by the proposition.

"Chains and Orlesians." Responded Claudia.

"Orlesians." The grimace her older brother was wearing was audible.

Clearing her throat, Leandra snapped her children's attention back to the conversation at hand. "Our family has an estate there. We can stay with my brother, Gamlen."

Bethany, who had remained fairly silent, looked troubled. She stopped her repetitious coursing along the Mabari's spine. With that action, she resumed clutching her staff, which Quentin relinquished without the need of being asked. "There are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall." Said the young woman, worried.

"We don't really have another option." Moaned Carver desperately.

"Kirkwall it is." Hummed Claudia, though she was hardly fond of the idea, herself. Templars were, in her option, just as dangerous as the Blight. She worked so hard to keep their family together, often sacrificing beyond her means of doing so to offer further security. This was a fact that she often kept to herself, for many of the deeds she partook in to offer such an amenity were hardly the sort she would be proud to admit to. These sorts of activities ranged from being both physically and mentally degrading to downright illegal. Her family didn't need to know about them, not if she valued their opinion of her. Quentin was the only one permitted to know, and what he knew often amounted to the knowledge that he truly did not wish to know what she had done and continued to do on his behalf.

Once more, the five set off, and nearly just in time. The Darkspawn were once more trailing them like flies to the stench of death, desperate to tear into them with rusted blades and pointed teeth. Did Darkspawn even _eat_ flesh? Claudia thought she heard that once, but she had heard a lot of things in her youth that turned out not to be true.

Up ahead, the sounds of bloody combat echoed through the Hinterlands. Claudia made to backtrack, to find a safer route, figuring it to be a larger group of 'spawn being particularly boisterous. However, their path was virtually blocked. Either Bethany or Quentin—she was unsure which—had constructed a wall comprised of fire to keep the Darkspawn temporarily at bay. And, she appreciated the effort. Truly. However, it gave her no option to find them safer passage. With a knowing glance cast at each of her siblings, she proceeded with caution.

What the found was not what they expected, but a welcome change from what they had come to know.

Embroiled in combat were a man and woman, probably no more than a handful of years older than Quentin or Claudia. The man, a Templar, judging by his armor, had stark black hair cropped short and was doing his best to protect both he and the woman behind his mighty shield. The woman, in contrast, almost appeared agitated. She wore her impossibly orange hair in a low ponytail and had a red band tied around her forehead. At her hip was a sword of her own, one that had seen better days. She looked like the sort of woman who could hold her own in a fight, that was for sure.

The Darkspawn took the Templar off-guard. One knocked the shield clean out of his grip. With it, the man went tumbling. Taking the opportunity, the Blighted creature climbed on top of him, hissing in a sinister fashion as it prepared to tear his flesh from his bones.

Before the Darkspawn was given its chance, the red-haired woman leaped into action. She cut into the swarming monsters with a ferocity that none of the Hawkes was accustomed to. Words cut through the air like a battle cry, words that sounded like "you shall not have him" as black ichor streaked the air around her. Her sights then settled on the Darkspawn that had the man pinned. She launched it off of her companion with a powerful kick, causing it to skid several feet away and onto its back. The woman rounded the field, ignoring the Darkspawn that circled around her anew as she straddled the one that had previously set its sights on the man.

"You shall not have him." Growled the red-haired mystery woman as she pushed the blunt end of her blade into its throat, black blood bubbling up from the wound she created as the creature attempted to suck in air to no avail.

Claudia was impressed, but also afforded no time for fan fair. If she and her siblings didn't act, this woman and her friend would surely perish. There were only so many a single person could slay. Signaling the others with a simplistic hand gesture, she charged the field, feet as silent as death itself on the rough-hewn stone ground. She avoided the onslaught of crude weaponry with her rogue's dance, dodging and deflecting blades with clever contortions, quick feet, and her own daggers. When an opportunity presented itself, she even shoved the pointed ends into vital areas and watched in twisted humor as her adversaries crumpled to the ground.

While she was occupied, Quentin had woven an area spell that managed to strike several of their Blighted foes with violet lightning bursts. He was cautious and meticulous in equal measure, making sure that his blasts did not strike anyone not of the Darkspawn variety. His magical capabilities granted them the upper hand, ending the brief battle before it officially began.

Shaken, the man and woman made their way over to the Hawke family, who had since regrouped. Bethany was tending to a small nick that Ser Biscuit had suffered, whilst Carver adjusted the strap the affixed his sword to his back when not in use and Claudia disgustingly wiped blood from her daggers onto her leathers. The woman appeared to have appreciated the help they offered. However, her companion looked far less grateful. If looks could kill, he was glaring both Quentin and Bethany into an early grave. Bethany, upon noticing, slunk back behind her siblings. Quentin was unperturbed. Offensively, Claudia drew her weapons, just in case. After all, he was a Templar. Though, the man looked to be in a terrible state. He was pale beyond human possibility and the veins around his eyes and mouth were incredibly pronounced. In order to stand, he required the woman's shoulder as a crutch.

The taint.

She'd know it anywhere. Just the sight of this sorry-looking Templar caused Claudia's skin to crawl. She resisted the urge to claw at the imaginary bugs she felt skittering across her arms and legs and focused on the woman.

"Stand down, mages!" The command must have sounded much more imposing when he was in better health. Currently, the words came out more as a wheeze, one that was reminiscent of a mouse. "The Order dictates—"

"Wesley, dear," Started the woman, "these people helped us. Surely the Order will understand."

Bethany snorted in contempt. "First Darkspawn and now a Templar? What does the Maker have in store for us next?"

"Darkspawn are clear in their intent, however, an unknown apostate is not. The Order _dictates_ —"

"Wesley." This time, the woman was sterner, taking on a look of a pure authoritarian. Clearly, she wore the pants in their relationship, permitting they were actually in one. Claudia resisted the urge to laugh outwardly. "I apologize for my husband. My name is Aveline Vallen and this is Wesley."

"It is a pleasure, Aveline, Wesley." Greeted their mother politely. How she had the will to be so cordial given their circumstances evaded Claudia. "My name is Leandra Hawke, and these are my four children: Bethany, Claudia, Quentin, and Carver." She gestured to each one in turn. And in response, they each grunted or nodded as their name was glossed over.

"Thank you for the help back there." Mentioned the woman—Aveline, continuing with the pleasantries. "We wouldn't have lasted much longer without your assistance. If you don't mind me asking, where are the five of you headed?"

"Kirkwall." Hummed Quentin, still unfazed by the delicate balance they had struck with the Templar and his wife. "I'm sure the others would welcome having another sword arm or two around if you wish to accompany us…and ignore the fact that two of us are quite a bit more sparkly than the others."

"Sparkly?"

"That's just how Quentin chooses to phrase his magical abilities." Explained Claudia. "He _sparkles_ , he doesn't cast."

Aveline quirked an eyebrow at the turn of phrase, but only as it was spoken. Once that shock wore down, she seemingly returned to the initial offer, a grateful expression settled on her face. "We appreciate the offer, and I'm sure Wesley here will be of little trouble."

Wesley grunted in a neutral manner.

"Then we should get going." Carver mentioned. His stony face was near impossible to read. "Daylight is burning and the Darkspawn are only drawing closer."


	3. Chapter 3

The Dragon Age Series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

The third pregnancy was proving the most difficult for Leandra, and Malcolm knew this. Quentin and Claudia had been easy on her body, though with their daughter, she had been fatigued and chose to sleep more often than with their eldest. It was probably because little Quentin was still an infant himself and already had his baby sister on the way. This one was more trying on her than either of those. His wife's feet swelled up just about every day, and with two young children running through the house, it was stressful.

Only adding to it was Malcolm's growing suspicion that their son was a mage. Quentin had begun showing the signs, though he could tell that their boy was doing his best to hide it. He would speak with Claudia in hushed whispers when he was sure that neither parent was listening. And, their girl always was so giddy and boisterous after these talks. This was because Claudia was fascinated with magic. She often chased Malcolm around their small home, begging him with enthusiasm to cast a spell, something pretty and showy. She _wanted_ to be a mage, which disturbed him.

Because of their suspicions, Malcolm feared that their daughter would become less of a priority in their life. With another child on the way, Leandra would have her hands full nursing the baby. And, if Quentin really did turn out to be a mage, Malcolm would have to devote time to teaching him to conceal it. It troubled him that Claudia was only five, and already, she was being pushed to the backs of their minds.

So, Malcolm had been making a conscious effort to include his daughter into more facets of his life. Usually, this amounted to him bringing her with when he'd go to collect herbs for his potions and poultices. Claudia seemed to enjoy this. Usually, the children were stuck in the house, or holed up in whatever little hamlet they had been calling home for the time being. That, and she got to have time with her father.

Leandra had practically begged him to take one of the children with him that day. The children had been bickering most of the morning, which wasn't particularly unusual for them. Being so close in age, they often found reasons to argue even if it was silly and unfounded. And, like always, Malcolm was happy to bring Claudia along. Quentin didn't seem to mind. He was content being at home with his mother, helping her with simple tasks that the pregnancy deemed impossible. Sadly, Malcolm usually made matters worse. Leandra grew tired of his sense of humor and his playful teasing of the children. He understood, of course, but knew she needed her space nonetheless.

Claudia was frolicking not five paces before Malcolm on the way to a spot he heard was ripe with medicinal herbs. He watched her with the admiration only a father could have for his child. The sun illuminated her skin and hair just so, and her joyous giggles filled the air, accompanying the aria that the birds twittered away with. They were near the edge of the Kocari Wilds, a dangerous place for a properly armed man of formidable stature. Malcolm Hawke, however, was only with a staff and one of his most precious treasures; one of his children. Claudia, luckily, was a smart girl, and stayed where her father could see her.

Normally, Malcolm preferred to stay as far away from the Wilds as possible. Stories of terribly wicked things living within its trees haunted every Maker-fearing Ferelden. Stories of the Witch of the Wilds, who made all mages look like monsters fell upon the land like a curse. But, he was left with little option. Templars had raided the last village they called home with the word the mages claimed refuge there. They had been fortunate. Fortunate enough that the huntsman that called the village home had seen a Templar encampment nearly a half-day's walk from the village. With this knowledge, Malcolm packed up his young family in search of refuge somewhere else.

Without a place yet to call home, they were forced to traverse Ferelden's wilderness in search of a quaint hamlet that would be safe enough for their children and where Malcolm would be able to secure work to support them.

Claudia began running circles around Malcolm. She was in pursuit of a particularly plump squirrel that had previously occupied its time stuffing acorns into its cheeks from the nearby brush. Her girlish giggles escalated from sparing to high-pitched laughter, which only caused the man to smile in amusement. It wasn't long before the creature made to escape its pursuer by running towards the trees. Claudia was nipping at its heels in hot pursuit.

"Claudia!" Called out Malcolm in a precautionary fashion. "Stay near me!"

"Okay, Papa!"

Taking heed of his command, the child ceased her advancement on the rodent and returned to his side.

It wasn't long before Malcolm found a suitable site ripe with resources. He nodded once in a pleased fashion, patting the satchel hanging near his hip in anticipation. Claudia gazed up at him, confused. Her red curls jostled slightly due to her cocked head.

"Papa is going to collect some plants now, Claudia."

"Okay!"

"Why don't you go and pick some lovely flowers for your mother? She would appreciate the gesture."

Nodding enthusiastically, the girl ran off towards a nearby ring of flowers.

The outcropping of herbs Malcolm found were a fine quality, perfect for him to make a salve for Leandra's feet. They were so swollen, purple in color and painful for her to stand on. He had to do something for his wife, and what he could do amounted to a keen understanding of plants and their properties. Claudia's plight for flowers had a supplementary need. With those flowers, Malcolm could crush some into a paste to mix with the herbs, lending their sweet smell to the mixture.

Malcolm continued to pore over the plants, inspecting each one for prime ripeness and exceptional quality. In the background, he could hear the crunching of Claudia's little feet through the grass. Other than her presence, the man was sure he felt another, someone watching from the shadows. Malcolm whipped his head over his shoulder, expecting to see Quentin peering over his shoulder. Sometimes he'd follow them when they went herb collecting.

Nothing greeted him except a happy wave from his daughter when their eyes met.

Shaking away these thoughts, he continued plucking herbs and stuffing them into his satchel.

No matter how hard he tried to shake these thoughts, however, all Malcolm could think about and feel was the overwhelming sense that they were not alone. He looked all around, using his peripheral eyesight to track someone who may have pursued them. A hunter, perhaps he told himself optimistically, hoping to see someone clad in leathers with a bow and quiver full of arrows chasing after a majestic stag.

All optimism ran dry when Claudia's trampling through the foliage grew suddenly silent.

"Claudia?" Called Malcolm, peering over his shoulder and in the direction of the ring of flowers. She wasn't there, nor was she in any nearby locations that he could spy with his limited vision.

Malcolm shot to his feet and ran over to the flowers. Panic set in. His palms grew dewy with perspiration as he ran his hands over the subtle footprints that Claudia's feet had made in the grass. Some flowers—freshly plucked—lay abandoned.

"Claudia!" Howled the man in desperation, noting the direction of several bigger footprints that he was sure weren't his own. They met up with Claudia's, at one point intercepting them entirely. Then, hers vanished and the larger set retreating into the Kocari Wilds.

Someone captured Malcolm's daughter.

In a mad frenzy, Malcolm rushed after the footprints. His satchel bumped annoyingly at his hip as his sprinting grew further brisk. He was straining, sucking in shallow breaths in-between calls for his child. Anger bubbled in his veins, but not at Claudia, or even her presumed captor. He was mad at himself. Mad for taking his eyes off of her, for not demanding that she stay closer. Never did he fathom that his own family would become victim to a child snatcher.

A small group of wolves blocked his path, jaws snapping hungrily. The largest of the pack growled menacingly. It was ready to rip him to shreds.

Malcolm hadn't the time to deal with confrontation. With his staff firmly clutched in his grip, he wove a spell, the first that came to mind. A small, flickering fire appeared in palm. Within seconds, it grew, lashing against his wrist, up his arm and to the elbow. It scorched not his clothing, instead, lapping at him as if he were made of fire itself. Several of the smaller wolves backed up, but the alpha was undeterred. With a final growl, it leaped at him.

In a practiced motion, Malcolm swept his scorching arm in an arc at the pack of wolves. Bursts of flames caught each of them, causing the beasts to yelp and whine in agony before each collapsing in turn.

Renewed, the man started again. Each pace led him deeper into the Kocari Wilds, and each was marked with fresh footprints. Malcolm had hope, hope that he would catch up before unspeakable crimes were committed against his little girl.

"Claudia!" Malcolm beckoned once more. No response. Whomever had claimed her made it deeper than he anticipated.

From here, the forest grew denser and wilder. Ancient trees were twisted into unnatural forms, some having the bones of some indiscriminate animal strung along them. Some still looked _human_. A shiver descended Malcolm's spine. Were the Chasind known for capturing children? He had never heard such tales. But, he also spent a good portion of his life in the Circle.

Malcolm's pace slowed to a brisk walk due to the proximity in which the trees grew to one another. Some were practically on top of each other. In such cases, the man had to employ rather crafty maneuvers to continue. More bones hung from tress, these ones looking considerably fresher. They were mostly the remains of men, some Chasind, and some otherwise. It gave Malcolm a bad feeling. He attempted to call for Claudia, but the words would not come.

Then, he heard it, the sweet mirthful giggle that could only belong to his daughter!

"Claudia!" He boomed excitedly, his pace quickening once again.

Then, he saw it.

On the edge of a murky lake sat a small hut. Smoke billowed out of its crooked chimney, giving it a homey appearance despite its otherwise derelict appearance. A woman sat on a rickety rocking chair in front of the hut. Malcolm figured her to be several years older than he. She had long dark hair with bits starting to gray around the temples. Some fine wrinkles were settled on her face. At her feet sat Claudia. Her dress was rumpled and splotched with bits of dirt that it hadn't possessed when they had left that morning. She was happily munching away on a shiny red apple, mirroring the older woman in the chair.

It was the woman who noticed Malcolm's presence first. She looked at him slowly, her golden eyes narrowing while she licked a bit of apple from her mouth.

"Now, see here, child. Your father has come to claim you." The woman's voice was thick and raspy. There was something mystical in her speech, something older than the Kocari Wilds. Something older than magic itself, perhaps. His mind returned to his thought from earlier that day, about the Witch of the Wilds calling this forest home. If ever he came across such a creature of legend, he surmised that this woman would have been her. Malcolm didn't dare breathe a word of his theory aloud for fear of pain inflicted on both he and his daughter.

"Papa!" Chirped Claudia.

She rose to her feet as fast as she could manage and hurried over to him. Malcolm was quick to intercept her hug. He even swept her off her feet and brushed some of her stray hair from her face. Finally, his heart was beginning to settle in his chest.

"Claudia, never leave my side again!"

"But, I didn't leave your side, Papa." Lamented Claudia. "A bad man snatched me up."

The woman in the rocking chair snorted humorously. "Indeed. And now this bad man is gone, so all is as it should be."

Malcolm looked at the woman curiously. Magic poured out of her like a spout, he could feel it with every fiber of his being. Within his grasp, Claudia happily resumed crunching away at the apple. They were her favorite food, so her resisting the temptation of it was impossible.

"I don't know who you are," started Malcolm to the woman, who by this point had tossed her apple core to the side of her chair in disinterest, "but I owe you a debt of gratitude. You did something—I dare not ask what—but because of that, my daughter is safe. If there is anything—"

"—I have no need for your favors, boy." Said the woman, refusing to dismount from her chair. "Your daughter will pay the price enough when the time comes. It is a burden that is not nor ever was hers to carry, but she will. Sadly, neither you nor your wife will be around to help her cope with this. "

"What are you implying?" Malcolm's voice grew hostile. He hugged Claudia closer to his chest, cautious. The girl neither squirmed nor fretted. She just continued happily eating her treat. "Are you going to harm my family?"

The woman laughed, almost sinister in nature. Goosebumps rose up on his arms at the sound. Still, she made no move to snatch Claudia from his grasp, so he remained steadfast in his position. "If I wished your family harm, I would require nothing more than to snap my fingers. No. I am an aging woman, content with enjoying my apple when an intruder came rushing towards my home with a child he spirited away." With a hasty gesture, the woman drew his attention overhead. From a creaky rope, Malcolm saw him. The man was probably mid-thirties, bald, and scarred from his right eye down to this chin. His face was only just starting to turn an unsettling shade of blue. Even from this distance, the man could see the bruises that the noose had left on his neck. But, how did that woman accomplish this? And in such a short amount of time? She must have known that he was looking to her for an explanation, for she shrugged coyly. Though, it was only to deter further questioning. He knew this. He also knew that magic was most certainly involved in that man's untimely demise.

"We should be headed back soon, Papa." Cooed Claudia sweetly, breaking Malcolm's concentration on the woman whose mystery grew more convoluted with each second. "Bethany and Carver are being rough with Mama today."

Before Malcolm had a chance to process Claudia's words, he began forming his own. It wasn't until the slightest of noises came out of his mouth did he truly hear what she had said. And what she had, it was troubling. Bethany and Carver were the names he and Leandra had agreed upon naming the baby, gender permitting. They were names that they had agreed upon well after Quentin and Claudia had been put to bed for the night. It was a conversation that had only happened once, one that had been kept secret from the children because they had been having fun guessing names for the baby themselves. The names Quentin chose varied based on his mood. Claudia, however, had been permanently stuck on naming the baby either 'apple' or 'potato', after her favorite foods.

"Where did you hear those names?" He asked darkly, completely neglecting the fact that her initial remark implied that his wife was heavy with twins until that very moment. "Were you up past your bedtime and eavesdropped on your mother and my private conversations?"

"No, Papa." Hummed Claudia. She scrunched her face up, mulling over how to explain how she came across this information. "I…I…I just _know_ this. I don't know how."

Malcolm froze.

Visions of the future were a tried and true sign of a person being a mage. All this time, he had worried that it had been Quentin with the _gift._ He had become increasingly secretive. Had nightmares that he wouldn't talk about with either of his parents. Claudia had shown no aptitude of any magical gifts. That was, until she uttered the name (or potential names) of her unborn sibling.

"Your girl is no mage, if that is what you fear." Murmured the woman. Malcolm was inclined to refer to her as a 'witch' at this point. "However, she will harness control over magic…in her own way. But, the child is right. The day grows late and you still must make your way home."

Malcolm nodded in understanding. Frankly, he wished to spend not a single second longer in the Wilds and was growing more agitated by the moment. Claudia was being complacent, which was surprising. It was like the witch had some sort of soothing effect on her. He looked into her cerulean eyes, to which she smiled brightly and nibbled a bit more at the quickly-diminishing apple.

"I…thank you, once more." Malcolm returned to a polite tone, bowing his head in gratitude. Claudia mimicked the motion.

"Thank you for the apple, Grandmother!"

"What?" Barked Malcolm, shocked. "That woman is not your grandmother! My parents have passed on, and your mother's are in Kirkwall."

"I know." Mused Claudia. "But, she talks like a grandmother, doesn't she? It is like she is older than the trees."

Malcolm did not bother to stay and see if the woman offered any salutations, even those limited to a wave. However, as they left the clearing with the small hut and the woman, he felt something akin to a protective charm drape over him and Claudia. The Wilds, they seemed different than when he first rushed through them in search of his child. It was as if there was a clear way out presenting itself, a path devoid of any confrontations. The whole time, Claudia chatted aimlessly of anything that popped into her pretty little head. Malcolm droned most of it out. His mind was still with that peculiar woman, the woman who said he daughter was to bare someone else's burdens. What could that mean?

With Claudia still nestled within his arms, Malcolm found his way to safety in a manner of half an hour. His previous quest struck his memory, causing him to sink his hand into his satchel to discern if he collected enough herbs to make Leandra her foot salve. Just in case, he stopped at a safe distance from the Wilds and collected several fistfuls more for good measure.

Never once did he allow Claudia to leave his sight.


	4. Chapter 4

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

The progress being made in their efforts to escape the Darkspawn was hindered with Aveline's sickly husband needing someone to act as a crutch. His weak body wasn't able to keep pace with the others, which brought a mild frustration to Claudia, mainly as she would have to slow her own pacing to accommodate him. Her mother was being nothing short of a saint through all of this. She elected to be Wesley's support, allowing the others to dispatch the Darkspawn whenever they'd crawl up the craggy earth and attempt to slaughter the lot of them. Even so, death was soon to be knocking on his door, so no amount of kindness would save him from that.

After ascending a steep incline, the group thought they had reached a moment's solace. Leandra released Wesley, who found quick refuge in leaning pitifully against some of the rocks that boxed in the area. He was the only one who felt comforted, though. There was a noise, a rapturous thundering that shook the ground almost as violently as an earthquake. Claudia leaned up against Quentin just to keep his footing, though he was not much of a stable pillar.

That was when they saw them, a pair of twisted horns rising up into their momentary oasis, accompanied by purple-gray skin and fangs as sharp as daggers. _Ogre._ Claudia had never seen one before, and Maker's breath, it was huge! If not for the debilitating fear of being crushed into jelly by its meaty fists, she may have made a quip about its sheer size and the stench that followed. Within seconds, it zeroed in on the group of humans, letting out an ear-splitting roar that send bits of saliva and gore flying out in their direction. Leandra and Bethany quickly intercepted Wesley and dragged him off to a safer location, whilst the others dispersed to better use their field to their advantage.

Everyone, except Carver.

He charged in with a reckless abandon, brandishing his blade as though it would smite the mighty beast with one blow. His own battle cry followed, a carnal howl that pierced their surroundings. The ogre, expectantly, intercepted him before he was able to do so much as prick it with the sharp tip. Its mammoth hands closed around him, giving a powerful squeeze. The sound of his ribs cracking was audible as he let out a shriek of pain.

The ogre wasn't finished yet. It laughed. It _laughed_ at the young man as he clung to what was left of his life. Then, it started swinging him around like a ragdoll, crushing him into the solid ground below or the stony rocks that flanked the field. Meanwhile, more Darkspawn were flooding the field, having been summoned by the ogre's battle roar.

"No!" Howled Leandra, attempted to claw away from Bethany's protective clutches and rescue her son. If she ran into the field now, surely she would meet the same fate.

Claudia gritted her teeth as the ogre discarded Carver's limp body like a broken toy and looked at the others with a bored expression. Quentin looked to her, wearing a similar expression. This was no longer a matter of saving their necks. This was for revenge.

"We have to make that taint-sucking bastard pay." Growled Claudia, biding her time before the Darkspawn closed in on her current location.

"Agreed." Remarked Quentin. "No one fucks with the Hawkes and lives to tell the tale."

Without another word exchanged, Quentin worked quickly with weaving a spell. This one encompassed his hands in fire. The flames stayed there, affixed to his fingers and palms. His magical fire caused Claudia to remove her daggers and present the blades to him. Wearing a crooked smile, he ran his hands down each dagger, imbuing her weapons with the same mystical fire.

"Aveline?" Offered the man, flashing his flaming hands at her.

The woman was already slicing through a particularly ornery Hurlock when the offer presented itself. She looked to Claudia, who responded with a curt nod and wove around a pair of Darkspawn that thought they could outmaneuver her.

"It won't burn me, will it?" Her question was without fear, but still seemed somewhat cautious.

"No." Hastily remarked Quentin. "Magic flames act different from the non-magic sort."

"Fine!" Barked Aveline as she cleaved through the torso of a Darkspawn looking to pierce through her chest with its rusted blade. "Set it on fire!"

Since they were in the heat of combat, there wasn't enough time allotted to either of them ceasing battle to have Quentin set her blade on fire. Claudia was doing her best to keep the Darkspawn from outnumbering the pair as well as diverting the gargantuan ogre's attention whenever it faltered from her. The mage worked quickly. He bathed the tempered steel in his magic flames, watching as they crawled across the weapon like ivy until they reached the hilt. Aveline afforded his handiwork no consideration for inspection. She got to work cutting through more Darkspawn almost instantly.

The fire-imbued weapons seemed more effective against the Darkspawn threat. The creatures, they seemed to fear the fire, seeing as many let out enraged hisses and would back up whenever either woman would brandish a weapon in its direction. That was true for the majority of them, save the ogre. It traipsed around the field, occasionally crushing another Darkspawn underneath its dirty feet. This was fortunate for them, in a sense. Though, taking it down definitely did not seem a stroll in the woods.

Bethany's voice cut through the sounds of combat. Magic was woven in with her words of power, descending on the three humans occupying their horrible adversaries. The feeling permeated Claudia to the bone, filling her with a sense of calm. A spell of protection, wagered the woman, narrowly dodging the ogre's unpredictable charging through the center of their makeshift arena. Bethany was skilled with these, whereas Quentin favored combat magic. Later, she would have to thank the younger woman.

When the smaller Darkspawn were dispatched, none of the three had thought of a plan to deal with the ogre. They radiated towards the edge of the field, finding it easier to avoid attacks when they could sprint towards the center. Claudia acted first and without thought. She leaped at the beast's back when it went charging at Aveline, who had been drawing its attention by rapping her sword against her shield. Its skin was tough, however, nearly deflecting the rogue's blades entirely when she sought to weaken it. The woman cursed aloud, trying again in a spot typically more vulnerable.

Nothing.

"Shit! It's skin is so thick and tough! I can't pierce it!" Moaned the woman.

Aveline offered several lashings, but her attacks were just as unsuccessful. The ogre raised up a club-like arm, threatening her with a mortal strike. Aveline was quick to raise the shield to protect her vitals.

"You have to think of something!" The other woman sounded desperate, and with good reason. Each blow the ogre offered left another dent in her shield, as well as causing her to skid closer towards the edge of the cliff they were standing on.

"I've got it!" Quentin was off some ways, being better at a distance and all. There was a torrent of flames raging in his clutches, just waiting to be released. "I'll set it on fire, which should weaken it. Aveline, give Claudia a boost! She'll know what to do."

Claudia nodded at the demand. She saw where Quentin was going with the strategy, but doubted if Aveline did. The warrior looked skeptical of the idea, especially as she had no idea what the intended result was. Accompanying that was their narrow window of opportunity. If Claudia wasn't quick, or if Aveline didn't put enough faith in neither her nor Quentin, the three of them would wind up crushed.

"On my count, Aveline! Ready?"

The warrior nodded cautiously, feet sliding another inch towards the edge.

"One!"

The ogre punched into the shield one more, causing Aveline's arms to falter in their hold.

"Two!"

Magic was lapping at the air around them. Quentin was just about ready to release his hold on the magic brewing in his palm.

"Three!"

Claudia sprinted at Aveline full-speed. The warrior, in turn, crouched down to one knee and held her shield over her head as a makeshift platform. Exerting an incredible amount of force, the rogue sprang onto it, soaring several feet into the air, just enough to grab ahold of one of the ogre's horns. She clutched onto it dearly, desperately trying to latch her legs onto it as well so she had a firmer hold. Quentin's cries of magic shattered the air, his flames shooting out of his palms like a siphon towards the ogre. Its arms and torso caught, resulting in the creature stomping around the field in a vain attempt to put out the fire.

Hands sweating, Claudia's grip was beginning to falter. She tried desperately, using the monster's gratuitous rolls of fat as footholds as she secured a safer hold upon the creature's neck. Lucky for her, it was in too much pain from the fire to truly care. Swiftly, she brought her daggers down and into its eye sockets. The creature convulsed several times as it staggered around in a drunk-like stupor. Claudia, in the process, slipped. Her daggers flew from her hands and landed across the field somewhere. She was more concerned with not falling at that very moment, however. Her attempts to stay atop the monstrous fiend were futile. As it tumbled down towards the earth, she lost hold entirely.

Claudia could have sworn she was aloft for much longer than a few seconds. It felt that way, at least. From her vantage point, she could see everyone's faces. Her mother's and Bethany's were etched with concern, whilst Quentin held his hand above his eyes and followed her distance by craning his neck. The impromptu flying lesson was cut short when her back met a particularly intrusive outcropping of rocks and she went skidding down it in an agonizingly slow motion.

Quentin and Aveline came jogging up just as the woman begun to groan pathetically and rub at her spine in the hopes of chasing away the pain.

"Your distance was good," Started Quentin, "but your landing needs work. Overall? I'd give you a five and a half."

"Fuck off, Quentin." Grumbled Claudia, lumbering to her feet. Pain surged through her entire body, radiating from the point in her lower back where she had made contact. "I deserve, at least, a seven."

"Carver! Oh, Carver!"

All conversations halted when Leandra flew onto the field and rushed to her youngest boy's side. She dropped to her knees and dragged his mangled body into her lap. Claudia and Quentin joined her, finding that Bethany was already there with a consoling hand placed on their mother's shoulder.

From this close, his body was almost unrecognizable. What was once a healthy young man of eighteen was now reduced to a twisted pile of flesh and bone. His features were distorted, and his limbs crushed. The pain he faced must have been excruciating, but at least he died quickly. Carver wasn't supposed to die like that, not so young. Each of them had figured he would have taken up post as a village guardsman, or would have gone to Denerim to join the royal guard. He idolized that lifestyle, and it was something he would have excelled at. Eventually, he would have found a nice girl and would marry her. Then, they would have children. That was the life Carver was supposed to have.

And yet, he lie there before them, eyes dead as his skin grew colder by the minute.

Their mother was a wreck. She sobbed loudly, begging the boy to open his eyes, to wake up from the nightmare she was having. Steadfast and at her side, Bethany wept, though silently. Silvery tears trickled out of her doleful eyes at the sight of her twin's lifeless body.

Quentin dropped to his knees before Carver's corpse as well. He took one of his brother's pulverized hands in one of his own, while placing the other over his mother's. Tears were rising to his waterline. Some even spilled over. "Mother?" He croaked, trying to garner her attention.

"This shouldn't be him lying here." Said the woman, an edge in her voice. "Look at him, Quentin! Look. Carver was your little brother! The one you were supposed to protect! It should have been you!"

Pursing his lips, Quentin rose to his feet and walked away. Only Claudia saw the true pain spelled out on his face, and she couldn't stand it. She hadn't begun crying, not because she wasn't sad; she was as distraught and mournful for their loss as any of the others. However, once her mother uttered those venomous words, a bad taste was left in her mouth that prohibited any tears from coming to her eyes.

"Really, Mother?" Spat Claudia angrily. "You're going to tell Quentin that you'd rather him die than Carver? That is…it's just cruel. To wish any of us dead above another! Are our lives less valid than his?"

Leandra didn't muster a response. She looked to Quentin woefully, perhaps wishing she hadn't said what she did. He kept his back to her, though, concealing his own anguish from her sight.

Their mourning was cut short when another swarm of Darkspawn spread across the field like wildfire. The three backed up into the cliff overlooking their position, outnumbered. Claudia was even unarmed. They were going to die here. It was certain.

From the cliff overlooking them, a great roar sounded off, summoning the gazes of everyone present. The fighting had roused a high dragon from her slumber, setting panic and fear into each of them. She took to the skies, circling the field and divvying up several bursts of her fire-charged breath that strangely missed the humans at every pass she made. Only the Darkspawn were affected. Their charred remains crumbled to the ground just as she did.

Once the dragon took her first step before them, however, her form began to morph into something out of the ordinary. Bathed in gold for a fleeting second, the dragon's frame shrank. Her tail pulled in, flowing behind her in what looked to be the form of a gown. She drew in her front legs and stood only upon the back as her bones twisted more, giving her the height and shape of a human woman. Even her muzzle collapsed into her face, becoming human in appearance.

No longer did a dragon stand before them, but an old woman in a crimson-colored dress that matched the dragon's scales, who wore her snowy hair in a manner that looked like horns.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

The fine hairs on Claudia's arms stood on-end. She recognized this woman from somewhere, somewhere long ago that was at the tip of her memory. It was in the way she spoke, the way she sauntered up to them, still clutching the head of the Darkspawn she had landed upon. Even in the way she looked at Claudia with the same familiarity. She looked over her shoulder, noticing as Wesley collapsed into the rocks and Aveline hastened to his aid. That was of no interest to her, though. Not with a shapeshifting dragon before her.

"I used to be we didn't get visitors to the Wilds. Now, they come in hordes."

Claudia presented the woman with a crooked grin, reverting to sarcasm as her defense mechanism. "That's a neat trick you did there." Hummed Claudia. "Where did you learn to turn into a dragon?"

Quentin snorted from at her side.

"Perhaps I _am_ the dragon." The woman matched Claudia's guile. "If so, count yourselves lucky that the smell of burning Darkspawn does nothing for the appetite."

Quentin nodded in agreement to the strange woman's claims. "I agree with you there. It's nothing short of nauseating."

It was strange. Claudia did not feel threatened by this woman's presence in the slightest. Sure, she had just been a dragon moments prior, but if anything, she seemed curious. The dragon woman was studying her with her golden eyes, looking for something that Claudia was unsure she would find. This concentration left Quentin's remark unnoticed.

"I spotted the most peculiar sight. A mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat? But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe—for the moment." The elderly woman paused. "Is that not enough?"

Claudia chuckled. "You could teach me how to turn into a dragon. That seems useful."

Raucously, the woman laughed at Claudia's most recent remark. Her humor was not shared by the others. In fact, most shifted uncomfortably and averted their eyes to their feet at the sound. All, except Claudia herself. She met the woman's gaze with her own, refusing to back down. "If only a clever tongue was all that one needed. Now, tell me, clever girl, how do you intend on outrunning the Blight?"

"We _need_ to get to Kirkwall." Bethany approached, albeit much more cautiously than both Quentin and Claudia had. Her grip on her staff was tight, causing her knuckles to go white from the sheer force she was distributing.

"Kirkwall?" Inquired the old woman. "My, that is quite the voyage you plan. Your King will not miss you?"

"I am sure he'll miss his life more." Quipped Claudia.

Once again, the woman laughed. Unlike the previous time, this one seemed out of pure humor rather than to spook those speaking with her. "Oh, you I _like!_ " She paused once more. Claudia didn't know if it was for dramatic effect or not. "Hurdled into the chaos, you fight. And, the world will shape before you." After speaking those cryptic words, the woman strode several paces away from the group, gauntlet-glad hand resting on her chin in contemplation. "Is it fate or is it chance? I can never decide." She stared at the carnage that lay before her for a drawn-out moment, considering something to herself before returning back to them. "It seems that fortune has smiled on us both today. I may be able to help you, yet."

"There must be a catch." Claudia was skeptical, and rightly so. This…woman, if she could even be called that, just turned from dragon to human. Now, she was speaking in riddles that hurt the young woman's head as much as that ache she felt in her back.

Another laugh. Claudia was unsure if this was a good sign. "There is _always_ a catch. Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it, while you can."

"Maybe we shouldn't trust her. We don't even know what she is." Bethany was visibly scared. She was hiding behind her siblings, using them to shield them from any magic that this strange woman might have been exuding.

"I know what she is." Aveline's tone was bold in contrast to Bethany's mousy one. She was at Wesley's side, holding his hand gingerly as he coughed and wheezed. "The _Witch_ of the Wilds."

"Some call me that." Said the old woman dismissively. "Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. An old hag who talks to much—"

"—Grandmother." Claudia's interruption came as even a surprise to herself. The words slipped from her mouth recklessly as memories of her childhood trigged in rapid succession. She knew then why this woman was familiar; it was because she had saved Claudia's life once. Back, long ago when Claudia was young, when she was abducted and brought into the Wilds. This woman—Flemeth—she rescued her from her captor and kept her at her hut until her father came to claim her. She looked different now than she did then, but that was to be expected.

"Grandmother? Have you gone off your rocker, Claudia? That woman is _not_ our grandmother." Quentin was rightfully confused. Their father never mentioned the kidnapping to their mother, or the meeting they had with Flemeth. She would have been furious with him had he breathed of word of it to her, so it remained a secret.

"I know." Defended Claudia. "It's because she…she talks like a grandmother. You know, ancient and wise beyond time itself."

Quentin nodded, but seemed, overall, unconvinced.

"So, you remember, now?"

"Yes, I think." Claudia fidgeted uncomfortably, mirroring the child she once was. "You told my father that I am to pay a debt. Have you come to claim it now?"

"No." Said the woman curtly. "That debt comes later, and will not be taken by my hands. What I offer you is this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a Witch of the Wilds?"

Claudia looked to Quentin, a silent plea for his opinion on the matter. He shrugged, picking her dilemma up instantly. "If you trust her, go for it." He suggested.

"Okay." Claudia murmured to herself, dissatisfied with Quentin's lack of brotherly advice. "I guess we have a deal, then."

"There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari." Flemeth stepped close to Claudia, so close that she could see the fine lines on her face. In her palm was the amulet in question. It was simple, but thriving with a magical energy that could be sensed even by the most magically inept of people. She handed the article to Claudia, who quickly slipped it into a secure spot within her leathers. "Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full." The witch looked to Wesley, whose coughs were growing to a powerful cacophony with each passing minute. "Before I take you anywhere, there is another matter."

"No." Demanded Aveline sternly as both Flemeth and Claudia headed over to the ailing Templar. She rose to her feet, prepared to draw a weapon on them at any second. "Leave him alone."

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already."

"You lie!" Thundered the warrior.

"She's right, Aveline." Squeaked Wesley, voice barely above a whisper. "I can _feel_ the corruption inside of me."

Claudia squirmed at the sight of him. She tried to look anywhere else, but each time she found somewhere else to focus, her eyes returned to those prominent purple veins and his dead eyes. "It's the Taint, Aveline." Her voice quivered as her tongue lulled over the word.

"The only cure I know is to become a Gray Warden." Mentioned Flemeth.

"And, they all died at Ostagar."

"Not all." Said the old woman, correcting Claudia's previous statement. "But, the last are now beyond your reach."

Aveline's face twisted in pain and horror. She returned to Wesley's side, gently petting his pale skin with the back of her hand.

"Aveline, listen to me—"

"—You can't make me do this." She interrupted. "I won't."

"The corruption is a slow death…I can't."

Quentin and Claudia went to her side. She was grieving; they all were. So they understood. However, a decision had to be made. And, it wasn't their place to make it for her.

"I can't make this choice for you, Aveline." Offered Claudia solemnly.

Aveline clenched a fist, resolute in her choice to spare Wesley. But, her resolve faltered as she looked into his agony-filled eyes. He was begging her for release, and she was denying it. The woman nodded once and looked to Claudia. No request was issued, but Claudia didn't need one. She pulled a small knife from her boot and handed it to Aveline. The woman brought it to a weak point in Wesley's armor, the neck, and lined the blade up with a vital artery.

"I'm sorry." She lamented.

"Thank you, my love."

Without delay, Aveline pressed the knife into Wesley's neck. He let out a pained grunt, blood pooling up around the iron blade. She turned away as it sank in further, clearly not wanting to indulge in her husband's last moments. The Hawkes, out of respect, retreated, allowing her to silently utter her goodbyes without their prying gazes watching her.

"Without an end, there can be no peace."


	5. Chapter 5

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

The ship rocked against the slight waves that ebbed and flowed against it. All had been calm on the Waking Sea for the duration of the two weeks they had been on their voyage to Kirkwall. That morning, the captain had even told them that they would finally be making port. That news elevated Claudia's mood, which had quickly soured as soon as she stepped foot on the ship. Rations were small, so going to bed hungry was an inevitability that she had come to expect. Not to mention, many of the crew acted more like dogs than men around the presence of _any_ woman. When attention befell her, Claudia didn't mind so much. She could ever so politely request that they fuck off. And if they didn't, break a finger or two. However, Bethany was not so bold. It took a watchful eye on the part of everyone present to shield her innocence from the leering.

She had been sitting below deck that morning, sharing what little rations she was given with Ser Biscuit. He happily ate up the scraps of dried meat and bread that she forfeited, unaware that her charity resulted in her own hunger. Aveline strode up from across the frigates. The woman had been quiet most of the voyage. Since they hadn't been acquainted long, Claudia didn't know if she was the strong, silent type, or if she was more vocal. The woman bet all her silver on the latter.

The fiery-haired warrior took a seat next to Claudia wordlessly. Her eyes looked over the Mabari, whose tongue slid out of his mouth so he may lap affectionately at her hand.

"Is it tough for you? Leaving home?" Asked Aveline simply. She had, in the time it took her to talk, coaxed Ser Biscuit to trot over to her side to receive some much-appreciated belly rubs.

"I reckon it's more difficult for Bethany." Claudia's words were somber, without the usual humor or edge they normally possessed.

"How so?"

"We were always moving around when Quentin and I were young. It was hard to get attached to anywhere—still is—when you're unsure if you'll be packing up everything you own and leaving by moonlight."

"And you did this because Quentin is…what he is." Aveline was choosing her words carefully, which Claudia appreciated. Kirkwall was teeming with Templars. The last thing they needed was to be surrounded the second they found dry land.

"Quentin _and_ Father, but yes." Claudia fished out the amulet that Flemeth had given her. The metal, despite being pressed flush against her for two weeks, still felt foreign and alien to her. It radiated with old magic, which troubled her more than the task itself. "When Bethany and…and Carver came around, it was harder to relocate. We still did so, but much less than before. We moved to Lothering when the twins were about ten or eleven. If anywhere had ever been home to me, that would have been it."

Claudia's fingers formed a vice around the amulet. Despite wearing thick leather gloves, her skin felt the cold it transferred. She grimaced as a result. "What of you, Aveline? Do you think you'll miss it?"

"I do." Stated the warrior simply. "But, I am not the sort of woman to sit around and wallow in self-pity. I'll pick myself up and see this as an opportunity."

"Shit." Cursed Claudia. "You've just been through all of that and you're already 'there's opportunity to be had here'. All I want to do is to get so drunk that I can't see straight and find someone to hit."

The ship whined and it skirted against the Kirkwall dock. Everything lurched forward, including Claudia and Aveline. Biscuit scrambled to his feet and barked aimlessly at the source of the disruption. Claudia replaced the amulet, pushing her promise to the witch from her mind as the sounds of the busy sailors overhead droned out much else.

Claudia rose to her feet, using the support beam to keep her steady as she did so. Aveline required no help. She was of a sturdy build and had incredible balance. By the time the both of them had managed solid footing, the other three were on them. Quintin walked as though he was well beyond his alcohol limit. Claudia knew this because it was usually her who dragged his ass home after a night of drinking. He was sober, though. She knew this because _she_ was sober. Quentin wouldn't hide liquor from her.

"I think we've docked." Suggested their mother calmly.

As if on que, the captain announced their arrival. All of the other refugees gathered up their meager belongings and headed above deck. The five had to shove through a sea of unwashed bodies just to gain footing on the stone docks. Even so, there was something liberating there. Once they stepped foot into Kirkwall, it was like being born anew. Perhaps Aveline was right. Perhaps coming to the Free Marches was more an opportunity than a burden.

"I don't like the look of those chains." Mousily remarked Bethany as they followed the general flow of the crowd. She, of course, was referring to the twins, so Claudia heard them called. The rogue had to agree with her there. There was something oppressive and foreboding about them. Of course, it could have also been that the only way _into_ the city took them much too close to the Gallows for comfort. The group only knew they were so close due to the influx of Templars in the area, who peered through the group of refugees, ever watchful for a stray apostate that they could leash.

"Lovely." Hummed Quentin sarcastically. "Do you think naming the Circle here 'the Gallows' was accidental, or intentional? Because I am inclined to believe it's intentional."

His comment went mostly ignored as they came to a gate, manned by a disgruntled looking guard who probably wasn't getting paid nearly enough. He was constantly shooing away the Fereldens that attempted to shove their way past him. With each swarm that came, he repeated the same claim, which was that there was no room left in Kirkwall for refugees and that they needed to return to the docks to await ships to take them back to where they came.

Claudia wasn't about to be denied as those people in the crowds before her were. She maneuvered through the crowd, unafraid to push through when someone got in her way. When she reached the front, the strung-out guard greeted her with an eye roll and a heavy sigh, as if to say 'great, _another_ refugee'. No batting of the eye lashes no promises of broken bones would sway this man.

"Go back to the docks." Said the guard, his words had become so practiced that they probably had lost meaning. "We will charter ships to take the lot of you back to wh—"

Claudia raised a hand up, demanding that the guard cease his talking. He did, but not without a look of confusion. He most likely wondered who this woman thought she was, bossing around the city guard with a slight gesture and a look of boredom. "Who do we talk to about getting into the city?"

"You'll want the captain—over by the gates. But, no one is being let in."

"We'll see about that." Murmured Claudia.

The rogue wormed her way out of the crowd and headed off towards the gates that the young guardsman had mentioned. Her companions regrouped with her quickly. Quentin was in-stride with her, glancing over his shoulder in amusement at the guard who still looked rather confused about what happened. "Do you think we can get in?"

"We'll get in." Resolutely promised Claudia.

In truth, she wasn't really sure they would. Since the Battle at Ostagar, she had been fighting a losing battle. Considering how the last couple of weeks had gone, she didn't doubt the possibility of being shoved back into a briny boat to go back to Ferelden. The main problem with that—besides the Blight and all—was that, between them, they barely had enough coin to buy bread. Everything they had was destroyed by the Darkspawn; if they went back, they would be reduced to beggars. Or, sex workers. Claudia was _really_ hoping to avoid that second fate.

A man stood at the gate as he approached. Several men, all armed and armored, were trying to barter with him for entrance into the city. The captain was as unwavering as the stone that the city was constructed of. His arms folded across his chest and asked them to leave once again. The men backed away, but did not leave the courtyard in front of the gate.

Upon their arrival, the captain began anew. He stood taller, an attempt to look more imposing, no doubt. "As I told them before you, there is scarcely enough room in the city for our own, let alone all of Ferelden's refugees."

Claudia, again, sauntered up. This time, she played it cool, eyes becoming half-lidded as she drew herself in, charm turned on. She draped her hand over the captain's arm in a subtle attempt at flirting. "Surely you can make an exception for the pretty people."

The guard captain snorted. "I find avoiding Knight-Commander Meredith's blade far more attractive than any of you."

"Shit!" Cursed Claudia, backing away and resuming her previous stance in immediate succession. "I'm all ears for a new plan."

Bethany walked up. Her position was far more demure and sincere than her sister's. "But, we have family here. With an estate. If you can just find Gamlen Amell—"

"—Gamlen Amell. I know that name." Things finally started to look up as the guard mulled over the name. Claudia and Quentin both clapped Bethany on her shoulders in approval of her tactic. "The only Gamlen I know hasn't got two coins to rub together."

"There must be a mistake." Now Leandra looked confused. All of her children had heard the stories, about how she left a lifestyle of being a high-society socialite to marry their father. Hearing her brother's name like this, it must have been a shock for her. Claudia, however, was unsurprised. She had come to expect this sort of negativity.

"Tell you what," Started the guard, "I'll see if I can find Gamlen and bring him here. The situation is a little different if you have family already here."

A triumphant grin crossed the lot of them, but only briefly. The armed men, who had been eavesdropping the entire time, approached. Their weapons were drawn, and they looked angry.

"Why are you letting them in?" Bemoaned a man that could only be assumed as their leader. "They just got in today; we've been here three days!"

"I said, get back to the docks." Demanded the guard captain.

The men, however, were not threatened. They rushed the captain, who was quick to draw his own sword in defense. Claudia's reaction was arming herself with her blades.

"If they kill the guard, there will be no one to find Gamlen!" She balked to the others before charging in, herself.

Luck was on their side. Their combatants, though heavily armed, were disorganized and far too focused on slaying the guard to notice as the four regrouped and planned their own attack. Bethany escorted their mother to a safe distance and called for the aid of more guards. Meanwhile, Aveline, like the tank she was, charged into the thick of it. She bashed anyone who ventured too close with her shield. These attacks were timed perfectly with the deadly swing of her sword.

Quentin preyed along the edges of combat. He was uneasy about casting his magic so openly, and with good reason. That was why he tied a blade to the end of his staff. His position was constantly changing as someone drew nearer; the linen cloths he wore would do little to protect him from an attack. Still, he was nimble and agile, two things that worked to his benefit when he divvied out blows from the blunt end of his weapon and sharp jabs from the pointed end.

Claudia practically vanished. When things escalated, she found a quick escape out. A rogue was useless if she was pinned in one position. With a new perspective, she sought weaknesses in their defenses, though hastily. Many of the men were desperate, and their fighting conveyed this. She exploited this, sneaking in when the sounds of combat grew to the point where they would hardly even hear it if she began screaming in their ears. Then, when they would draw their weapon in a wide-reaching arch, she'd shove her daggers into the armpits or draw it across their throat.

Before the fight truly began, their foes were eliminated. Claudia and Quentin busied themselves with rummaging through the effects of the fallen. There was little to keep, save a few stray coins, their weapons, which could fetch a decent enough price, and whatever hunks of jewelry they wore. The haul was split among the siblings, as to not burden only one with the added weight.

"Serves them right." Chorused the guard captain, watching with a curious eye as Quentin exchanged a weapon he had found with a few handfuls of coins Claudia had looted. "I'll go and find Gamlen for you, now. Wait here."

Hours passed. Hours of nothing to do but sit around and watch as more refugees attempted to gain access to the city. Biscuit busied himself with playfully chasing around what children these people had brought with. Claudia enjoyed watching as the dog playfully tugged at their sleeves. Many of the children—frightened and hungry—regarded the dog with wariness. That was, until he'd give a playful yip and lower his front half, signifying he was ready to play. Eventually, the children would shriek with delight as they were pursued by the dog, who caught his prey easily and _savagely_ lapped at their faces with his wide tongue.

Dusk was nearing when the gates that entered into the city opened and a man, nearly their mother's age, exited. There was a family resemblance between the two. In fact, Carver, when he was alive, shared this man's cheekbones. However, his face wore his age far more prominently than their mother's. The man's—Gamlen's—seedy gaze trailed the area until he spotted their mother. His face changed little, except a brief smirk as he approached.

Leandra intercepted him with a fond hug. The action seemed to have caught him off-guard. Gamlen's arms remained stiff momentarily before wrapping gently around her for a mere second.

"Damn, girl." Announced the man after they drew apart. "Time has not been kind to you."

"Oh, Gamlen." Leandra looked as though she would start sobbing any second. She managed to stem this impulse well. "It's so good to see you."

"Listen," Gamlen rubbed his neck uncomfortably, "I'm sorry about that husband of yours. When you left, I thought you were Ferelden for life."

"We thought so to." Quentin's response remained curt. However, it garnered a considerable amount of attention from his uncle.

"Maker's Breath!" Exclaimed the man. "You look just like him—except a few bits here or there."

Leandra flushed. "Where are my manners? Gamlen, these are my children." She gestured towards Quentin. "This is Quentin, my oldest," Attention was then drawn the Claudia, "Claudia is the second oldest, though everyone thought they were twins when they were children." A hand was then quickly brought up to regard Bethany. "And last are Bethany and Car—"

Leandra cut herself off. A sob rose up, the realization that her son was gone hitting her once more. Bethany draped an arm around her mother, gently consoling her with soft words and a gentle motion along the back. Quentin shifted uncomfortably, his own eyes becoming clouded and fixed on his feet.

Claudia acted quickly in an attempt to lighten the mood. She hated it when people cried, especially her mother. "So, Uncle, are you going to get us into the city, then?"

"She doesn't waste time, does she?" Gamlen jerked a thumb in Claudia's direction. "It's not that simple, girl. In order to get into the city, you need to grease some palms, if you know what I mean."

"Coin."

"Exactly. And from what I can tell, we're going to need a lot more grease."

Leandra, having snapped from her fit of melancholy, returned to the conversation. Her eyes were fixed on her brother, trying to understand if she heard him correctly. "So, you can't get us in."

"I didn't say that." Spat Gamlen defensively. "I know some people who might…pay your way in. If your children go and work for them for a year."

"Slavery!" Balked Leandra. "I will not allow my chil—"

"—Mother, it's fine." Hummed Quentin.

"Yes." Remarked Claudia agreeably. "What's a year, anyway?"

"That's what I like to hear. Anyway, my contacts are Athenril and Meeran. Athenril…well, she runs a smuggling operation here in the city. Meeran is the leader of a mercenary gang, the Red Iron. I told them about you and they agreed to meet you here."

"I don't like the sound of this." Leandra's fears were audible. She wanted the best for her children, not to see them working off a debt that she partially incurred.

"If neither sounds appealing, you could always send your children to work at the Blooming Rose. Your girls would be a nice fit there, and I'm sure your boy would, too."

From the way Gamlen's tongue slithered over the name of the establishment, Claudia could only figure it to be a brothel. Her eyes narrowed, hands darting for her daggers in hostility. She caught herself quickly, retracting her hands and placing them sharply on her hips and gritting her teeth. "A year on my back? That could quickly turn into eighteen years of servitude to some snot-nosed child that I didn't ask for in the first place."

Gamlen grimaced. "I see what you mean. Well, if you're above that sort of work, go talk to Meeran or Athenril. They both offered to pay your way into the city."

"I, for one, am not comfortable allowing another to incur debts on my behalf." Aveline's voice rang out proudly.

"You look like a big girl who can take care of herself. It shouldn't be too much trouble to find work for yourself."

Aveline nodded, dissatisfied.

"Come, Quentin. Let us go speak with Uncle's _contacts."_

Claudia strode away, just out of earshot. Quentin was quick behind. Something was on his mind.

"I don't think working for Meeran is such a good idea. At least, not for me. I _sparkle_ , Claudia. If I'm out in the thick of battle, I'm sure to cast. And if someone sees, we're done for."

"That is exactly what I was thinking. You go talk to Athenril. See if she'll take you. I'll speak with Meeran."

The pair departed, and Claudia got to work looking for Meeran. He wasn't a hard man to find, not that she truly expected him to be. Like any self-respecting rogue, he favored the shadows, and drew little attention to himself. Claudia recognized him immediately because he was staring her down, probably because Gamlen had mentioned his nieces and nephews when looking to procure his coin. And, as she had been reminded throughout her life, she looked very much like an Amell.

"You Meeran?" Asked Claudia upon her approach.

Meeran, other than the daggers he wore, was an unassuming man. He was older, probably about her mother's age. What little bit of hair that remained on his head had started to gray, and he wore wrinkles as though they were a mask. Upon her words, he drew a finger to her lips, demanding her silence. Claudia could only assume that meant he was the shifty sort that had a hand in dealings that he didn't wish the guard to find out about.

"You Gamlen's niece?" He asked, studying her with a lurid fascination that caused her skin to crawl. "Nice."

"I'm told you have coin. And, wouldn't you know it? I need coin! So, how can I go about getting you to give me said money so that I can get into Kirkwall?"

Meeran sniggered in such a way that told Claudia that she was in over her head. She often was, and rarely let that deter her.

"There's a noble in the city—Friedrich—he gave us bad information. Got some good men killed. I'd like you to find him before he skips town and _teach_ him a lesson." To make his motives clear, Meeran drew his thumb across his neck.

"Okay, got it." Noted Claudia. "Where can I find Friedrich? Permitting, of course, he hasn't already found a ship that will take him out of this festering pit of a city?"

"My men spotted him not far from here—near the Gallows. He should still be there. Take care of him, and I'll get you into the city."

Claudia left, peering over her shoulder as she did so. Quentin was several yards away, talking to someone who looked to be a merchant. He seemed to be faring well, so she did not interfere. Instead, she went off to find the Gallows.

The Gallows, much to her delight, were easy to spot. There were giant gates blocking off the entrance. She deduced it was to keep the mages firmly locked away. Then, there were the Tranquil. Their garish brands and dead eyes met her, sending a shiver down her spine. Claudia couldn't even imagine what it would be like to lose Quentin or Bethany to that.

Friedrich, or who she assumed to be Friedrich, was hiding amongst the ranks of the Tranquil. He stood out easily, given his expensive silks and the large bodyguards that flanked him. His eyes darted around like cat in search of the rat. This man was anticipating _someone._ Her.

"Who are you?" He barked angrily. "Get out!"

"What?" Questioned Claudia, tapping into her endless reserves of sarcasm. "This isn't the tavern? I'm so disappointed."

"She's one of Meeran's, boss." Groused the bodyguard to Friedrich's right. "I saw her talking with him."

"Is that so?" Friedrich hissed. "What is that lout paying you? I'll double it."

Claudia raised an eyebrow. "Will you get me into the city?"

"I don't have that sort of money!" Friedrich animatedly pointed towards Claudia. "Take care of her!"

Both bodyguards made a bee-line for Claudia. They were lumbering towards her with a quickened pace, but she didn't budge. She gave them a mischievous smirk and a coy curl of the finger, beckoning them closer.

"Come and get me, boys." She crooned with a playful wink.

And, they drew closer, still. It wasn't until they had their weapons drawn and were seconds away from slashing her into ribbons did she reach into her pouch and produce a small vial teeming with some volatile chemical composition. She threw it to the ground, ducking out of the way when the glass shattered and a thick smoke enveloped the area. Coughing erupted from her assailants, accompanied by their swords clattering against their armor.

Claudia vaguely remembered Friedrich's location, so she quickly advanced upon him. She could make out his shape. He was swatting at the smoke that encompassed him and hacking incredibly. She crept behind him. With a fluid motion, she drew her small knife from her boot and slashed into his neck. His hot, thick blood oozed down the wound she created and onto her hand. Claudia didn't let it stain her further. She went for the bodyguards, who were still fumbling about in search of her.

Unfortunately for her, the potency of the smoke bomb had started to wear off. The bodyguards, though still confused, had managed to peg her location. The larger of the two, a big fellow who looked just as stupid as he did tall, swung his sword wildly at her. Claudia miscalculated her step and managed to avoid only _most_ of the attack. She caught the tip of the blade in her upper arm. The pain seared through her entire arm from shoulder to wrist, resulting in a slew of profane words spewing from her mouth that would make even the saltiest of sea folk blush. Still, she reacted quickly, ignoring that blood that was now flowing down her arm as she rammed her dagger into his chest. The leather he was wearing gave, allowing her weapon to strike true and deep. With a gurgle of agony, the man dropped, body falling from her weapon.

Meanwhile, the remaining bodyguard was attempting to scramble away. He found his footing and, with all the intention of fleeing, made his way towards the docks. Pissed as she was, Claudia was not about to let this lowly bodyguard survive. She pounced, form reminiscent of a cougar or other large feline, daggers coming down much like fangs as they speared the man in the back. One must have severed his spinal cord, for he convulsed involuntarily for several moments after he expired.

Once the smoke cleared, Claudia took what they had of value. Sadly, that was limited to seven sovereigns, all of which were in Friedrich's purse.

"You bastard!" Howled Claudia, kicking his dead body in the ribs in frustration. "My good leathers are stained with _your_ blood and all you have is seven sovereigns?"

Claudia heaved out a sigh, wiping her bloodied hands on Friedrich's silk doublet. "Well, at least I can finally get that drink I was itching for."

She composed herself with several deep breaths and returned to Meeran.

"Is it taken care of?"

"Dead and buried." Said the woman rhythmically. "Well, dead. You can go and check for yourself, of course."

"No, I believe you." Meeran remarked. "Welcome to the Red Iron. I'll have someone contact you with your first job. Have Gamlen come and talk to me when you get back to him."

Claudia offered no goodbyes and she left to go find her uncle once more. Quentin was already there, wearing a self-assured smirk as she walked up. He took one good look at her, eyes going from amused, to bored, then concerned when he saw the cut on her arm.

"What happened to you?" Asked Quentin, though he most likely knew the answer.

"You know, just practicing a little blood magic in the off chance that the Maker decides to grace me with magical capabilities after all."

"Don't joke like that!" Spat Bethany.

"Sorry." Lamented Claudia pitifully. "You know that I don't even approve of blood magic, anyway."

"So, Gamlen," Started Claudia, "Meeran would like to speak with you, now. I'm assuming it's to work out the fine details in this "indentured slavery" thing you got Quentin and myself into."

"Athenril, too." Added Quentin. "I mean, Athenril would like to speak with you, not that you sold her into slavery."

Gamlen left, grumbling something to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I will most likely not be posting any chapters for the remainder of this week and possibly next week. Due to the holiday season, work has gotten very busy. Things should even out by next week, but due to the nature of my job, I cannot be positive.

Also, as this story is rated M, I am going to do my best to make it so people who do not wish to read any explicit adult content can avoid it. All adult scenes will henceforth happen in standalone chapters that provide no plot driving whatsoever. These chapters will also be properly labeled in both the author's notes and the chapter title to further convenience anyone who wishes to avoid such content.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

"Quentin, please?"

Claudia had her hands clasped together as she followed Quentin from the communal bedroom they shared with their mother and sister to the living area. Gamlen's house was small, though that seemed generous, given the amount of people that now lived there. To add to its unpleasantness, it was a filthy hovel that reeked of urine and stale liquor. That was probably because it shared a wall with the tavern next door. Leandra had tried (and failed) to scrub the odor from the little home. She was _still_ trying as her two eldest children flitted past.

"I still fail to see why you need me with you on this."

"Because." Claudia responded curtly. She walked by Ser Biscuit, who craned his head and gave a heart-wrenching whine as his mistress ignored him.

"Because is not an answer."

"Because," Began Claudia once again, "because this is my _first_ job and I want my big brother there to commemorate the occasion with me."

"Mmmhmm." Hummed Quentin in disbelief. He was now gnawing at a piece of bread he had picked up off the table, more in boredom than from genuine hunger.

"Because the big bad nobles in Hightown scare me?" She was fishing for a reason why he would believe her. This one, of all reasons she could come up with, had to be the most pathetic.

"You had Flemeth: the Witch of the Wilds in stitches, and you're afraid of nobles?" Quentin snorted. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Okay." Claudia forfeited. She sighed heavily, dangling her arms in front of her in a defeated manner. "I'm asking you to come with because Meeran is asking me to get some information out of a contact and I'm supposed to meet him at a tavern in Hightown, and I have no coin to buy anything to drink."

"Didn't Meeran give you a purse full of coins?"

"For his _informant_ , Quentin."

"You want to get shitfaced and you want me to pay? Am I hearing this correctly?"

"Kind of. Yeah."

"On the job? Ever a professional, dear sister."

Claudia rested her hands on her hips as her eyes narrowed at the insult. Quentin didn't back down. He matched her stance and expression, though with a humorous note to it that told her that he wasn't frightened by her and that he didn't take her threats seriously.

"Claudia, I was going to go with anyway, you do realize that, right?"

"You asshole!" The woman punched him in the arm lightly, to which he responded with a punch to hers. She draped an arm around his shoulder, denoting that she wasn't truly mad about his roundabout way of giving her his word that he would join her.

Leandra looked at them from her post on the floor where she had been scrubbing. "Please don't get _too_ drunk. I would rather not like a repeat of last time the both of you went out drinking together."

"No promises!" Chirped Claudia flippantly. She charged into the other room and grabbed her daggers off of the floor next to her bed mat.

Quentin shrugged, his way of telling their mother that he would do the best he could to keep them out of trouble. However, when inebriated, he often forgot about such promises.

Claudia led the way to the tavern where she was supposed to meet Meeran's contact. When she was given the job just the day before, she had questioned why he hadn't gone himself. To her, at least, it seemed more logical. Meeran gave her a response that did nothing to satisfy her curiosity. It was something akin to 'because I'm sending you to do it', which naturally resulted in her huffing away in frustration. Very little information was given, but having worked with mercenaries before, Claudia had known that expect that, at least. Many of these "reputable" organizations had their hands in many, many cookie jars. Some of these dealings were illegal.

"So, where is this tavern you're supposed to meet your informant at?" Quentin Asked. He was half a pace behind Claudia, who was wasting no time tearing up the steps that lead into the noble quarter.

"Hightown. It's some snobby tavern where all the rich people drink. Meeran wanted to have the meeting there because The Hanged Man already gets patrolled more frequently _because_ so many people conduct shifty business there."

"Nobles." Groused Quentin. "Can you believe we're, technically speaking, one of them? I mean, we don't have the fortune or the big house, but we have the blood."

"They don't see us that way." Stated Claudia. "They see that our apostate father knocked up our noble mother, so we _must_ be mongrels."

"Well, maybe _you're_ a mongrel." Before Claudia even responded, Quentin flinched in preparation of being hit. She didn't make a move to strike him, for she was busy trying to read a sign that hung over a building.

"This is the place, I think." Hummed the woman.

"You think? Shouldn't you know for sure before we go in?"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "It's not like I'm going in there, daggers drawn. I'm going to sit down at the bar, order a couple of drinks, then when I see a man fitting the description that Meeran gave me, I'll get the information and leave. Easy peasy."

"Your confidence scares me sometimes."

Despite his discomfort in Claudia not knowing for sure whether this was the true location or not, Quentin followed her into the building.

Sure enough, it was a tavern. The room was adorned with plush chairs upholstered with expensive silks and velvet. Candles flickered dimly from ornate sconces and an elaborate chandelier, giving the room a romantic, mysterious quality to it. A few noblemen sat around a finely-polished table, nursing drinks in silver tankards that had some intricate patterns inlaid into the handles. Besides the serving girls and the bar keep, there was one other man present. He had dark hair to about his shoulders, one lock of it neatly braided down the back of his neck. The most noticeable thing about him, however, was the expensive-looking leathers he wore, baring the crest of a noble house that seemed oddly familiar.

Claudia wrinkled her nose as her eyes wandered the room. Meeran's description of her contact fit the man at the bar. Sort of. All he said was that she was looking for a dark-haired man in leathers. And, there he was, a dark-haired man in leathers. She looked to Quentin, who didn't share the same look of promise back.

"I think that's him." Said the woman, jerking her head in the direction of the man at the bar.

"What did Meeran tell you the man looked like?" Quentin was already counting his coin. Most likely, he was gauging how much he could afford to spend on drinks before he cut the both of them off.

"Dark hair and leathers."

"Well, _that's_ helpful." Sarcastically remarked the man. "That describes half the men in Kirkwall."

"I'm going over. You just cover me, or something."

"Yes, because having me, the unarmed one, doing the covering is an incredibly smart idea."

Claudia rolled her eyes at her brother's sarcasm and took a seat next to the man in question. Upon closer inspection, this man was probably nearing his thirtieth year. He wasn't unattractive, but certainly not her type, all the same. And, he looked Ferelden. Though, it the few short days she spent in Kirkwall, she was starting to see that there were more Fereldens in the city than Marchers.

The man paid her no attention as she sat beside him, which infuriated her. Claudia had no idea how she was supposed to go about collecting Meeran's information, let alone introducing herself to his informant. Though still wet behind the ears, the rogue was sure that she couldn't walk up with a hand for shaking and say 'hello, I'm one of Meeran's, what do you know'. Quentin was little help. He busied himself with ordering a pair of pints for them.

After mulling for several minutes over a plan to get this man to pay attention to her, Claudia finally decided to go bold.

"Those are lovely leathers you're wearing." Flattery seemed to work in most other situations. She didn't see why it would fail her here.

With only the slightest of acknowledgements, the man turned to her.

"Thank you."

The man turned back to the drink before him, leaving Claudia in the exact position she had started in. Her arms folded across her chest as she glared at the back of the man's head, like her icy gaze would prompt him to turn back around and continue to converse with her. It was then that she noticed the crest he wore, a bear on scarlet and gold. He wore it brazenly, which meant one of two things: either it was a family crest, or that of a mercenary band. Permitting it was the latter, she figured she would know if he was one and the same with her informant.

"This crest you wear, is that for your family, or—"

"—My family." Interrupted the man, not taking his eyes from his drink. "It is Amaranthine's heraldry. My father is its Arl."

"I see."

Claudia swiveled around, facing Quentin and abruptly ending her line of questioning in the process. Her brother was already halfway through his own pint and clearly contemplating draining the one he had ordered for her. She snatched it and put it out of his reach just in case.

"I don't think he's it." Whispered Claudia as she used her tankard to shield her lips from anyone who might possibly be able to read them.

"I could have told you that." Quentin was louder than he realized. The drink was already affecting him, given the blush creeping across his face and his lecherous eye on every man and woman in the establishment.

Time passed on, much more than Claudia would have wanted. The nobles at the table heatedly discussed what was wrong with Kirkwall, which apparently was the influx of Fereldens. Next to her, the man with the noble crest would occasionally speak with the bar keep, but kept to himself. Quentin was growing boisterous and bold with each sip. Normally, Claudia would have as well. However, as Quentin had so eloquently reminded herb earlier, she couldn't get drunk on the job.

But, she was bored, and watching as the nobles—whom she was coming to realize were of Orlesian origin—eat the snails they had ordered was making her stomach churn. That was when Quentin elbowed her roughly in the ribs, causing her to sharply yelp in pain and kick him in the shin.

"Did you see what they're eating?" Somehow, her brother managed coherent speech in spite of his growing inebriation. "Snails, Claudia." Quentin waited not for her response. "Who eats that?"

"I hear it's a delicacy in Orlais." Mentioned Claudia. "And, from what I can tell, this _charming_ tavern is owned by Orlesians. Just look at the silks on the chairs."

"I know. Orlesians eat such weird things."

A lever switched in Claudia's brain, one that would sate her boredom while she waited. She cast the man beside her, who was effectively ignoring her presence, a devilish smirk before gesturing to Quentin to watch and remain silent.

"This tavern is famous for its Orlesian cuisine."

He only turned his head slightly to look at her.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes!" Boomed Claudia. "I come here frequently for the snails. They are truly divine."

Claudia contained her laughter as the man shot her a wary look. Probably because she looked only a step above the beggars who lived in Lowtown. Still, he seemed curious now. He turned to face her more completely.

"You have eaten snails before? What would possess you to even try such a thing?"

Claudia shrugged, giving the man a kittenish look before proceeding. "I suppose I am an…adventurous eater. Why else would I come here? Surely not for the company." She motioned towards the nobles, who had since detected the Ferelden accents and were currently turning their noses up to them.

"I see your point. About the company, that is." The man's face did not break from its stony look. "I am still not sure if I would eat snails, though."

"Look at you! The proud son of a noble house, afraid to try new foods." Claudia spoke with familiarity intentionally. He was coming around to her side, which delighted the woman to no end. However, she noticed something as the man next to her flickered with anger at his bravery being called into question. The door leading into the tavern had opened, and in walked a man. Like the one next to her, he had dark hair and leathers. However, unlike him, he sat in a dark corner, anticipating someone.

Quentin, having not noticed that Claudia _had_ noticed, hit her on the arm several times. He barked her name with each instance for emphasis. In order to prevent further abuse from him, the rogue smacked him back.

"I see!"

"Then go talk to him! I'm sick of getting glared at by Orlesians for being Ferelden!"

Claudia went to the informant, who identified himself readily as soon as he pegged her for one of Meeran's. The transfer of information was simple enough, especially once the coin that she had been given to pay him with dropped onto the table. In a matter of minutes, they were finished, and the man left with nothing but a nod. Quentin and Claudia took their leave minutes after, but not before noticing a steaming plate of snails being brought to the man at the bar.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I picked up more hours at work next week, so I'm unsure if I'll be able to post anything. I'll try my best to prepare a chapter this weekend to be edited and posted next week, but I cannot make any guarantees.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

-One Year Later—

Quentin enjoyed his work, in spite of the fact that smuggling was illegal. Athenril's crew was quick to accept him as one of their own. Even when they found out about his magical capabilities, his value to the crew did not diminish or fade. Along with that comradery, the man felt that he was _good_ at smuggling and had impressed his boss. Sometimes, she'd reward him by slipping him a few coins under the table, or giving him gifts. Other times, she would permit him to board the ships and travel to the exotic locations that supplied them with their illegitimate goods.

His favorite, by far, was Rivain.

The arid country was a diamond in the rough, a place he vastly enjoyed on his fleeting visits to secure Lyrium or other precious things that Athenril could later trade for coin. Throughout the cities his brief visits permitted him to see, the air was thick and rich with the scent of pleasant incense. Likewise, the food was delicious, flavored with spices he was unfamiliar with. Yet, his happiest memories were of the women.

Quentin had always enjoyed the company of both men _and_ women for as long as he could remember, but there was something about the look of a Rivaini woman that drove him insane. He couldn't tell if it was their skin, which was deep and beautiful with the colors of warm sepia and umber. Or, their curvaceous bodies reminiscent of an hour glass. Either way, his fondest memories were of the time he spent in the brothels, being entertained with lilting song and stimulating dance, among other things.

His mind remained on the gems that were Rivain's beauties when Athenril approached him that morning. He was supposed to be unloading a crate, to which he was sure Athenril had noticed he had been shirking in when he had noticed her approach. Hastily, he tried to appear busy, plucking the contents from the large box before him out gingerly and settling them into the cart at his side. Luckily, his boss hadn't the mind to bring up his daydreaming.

"Do you know what today is, Quentin?" Asked the elven woman, watching with a fading interest as he unloaded a fine vintage of brandy from the crate.

"Uh, Friday?" Quentin honestly had no idea what she was getting at.

"Well, yes. But no." Athenril was watching as he removed more bottles out methodically. Shipping liquor was not illegal, but what sat at the bottom of the crate, underneath a false base was. Athenril worked primarily in expensive jewels and Lyrium, though she was known to ferry the occasional stowaway or love letter from one forlorn mage to another.

"I don't know." Shrugged the man. "Unloading day? Your Name-day? I'm going to need a hint if we're going to keep playing guessing games."

"Today is the day that your contract with me officially expires."

Quentin shook his head. For him, working for Athenril was enjoyable; he would easily work for her for the rest of his life if she would permit it. However, Claudia was not so pleased with the lot she was given. Apparently, Meeran treated her like she was _his_. She didn't handle this indentured servitude thing so well to begin with, let alone having a man feel entitled to her because of this. Every day, Claudia would chime out how many days remained in her 'sentence', as she called it. For the past month, her cries have become exponentially more chipper. The previous morning, she announced only three remaining days.

"Claudia says that after yesterday, we have two more to get through. She's been counting down since the day she shook Meeran's hand and made the agreement."

Athenril chuckled. "Can't say I blame her. Your sister seems like a real spitfire, the type who doesn't like the idea of being contained within the rules someone else spells out. Anyway, I know that two days remain, but you've been a great help for me over the past year. You've more than earned a couple days' early release."

"Really?" Gasped Quentin. He resisted the urge to throw his arms around the petite woman. "I…wow! Thank you!"

"It's the least I can do." Said Athenril, shrugging off his gratitude. "You can take a bottle or two of that when you leave, by the way." She gestured towards the bottle of brandy still in his hand. "You and your family can celebrate with it later."

Quentin snorted. "Mother, Bethany, and I will be celebrating. Claudia will be drowning her sorrows."

Some of the other men approached Quentin with their goodbyes as he prepared to leave. It was a bit surreal. He hadn't thought he made many friends in Kirkwall, but here he stood, having those he worked with coming up and clapping him on the back and offering to buy him a pint at the Hanged Man next time they were both there. Quentin had half a mind to start taking the names of everyone who offered and bringing this into question on the next occasion he saw them. But, he wasn't that selfish.

Walking out of the dank warehouse where Athenril's business was conducted was like being born anew. The sun was just cresting over the horizon, causing the Waking Sea to sparkle with intermingling hues of pinks, oranges, and yellows. There was a passenger ship nearing port; after all this time, Quentin could tell the difference. It confused Quentin that Kirkwall still received many Ferelden refugees, despite the Blight ending and the good King Alistair now sat on the throne. He had even heard that a new Queen sat beside him.

Claudia was waiting for him, perched on a ledge that overlooked one of the piers. She looked haggard, probably because Meeran had her doing late-night jobs, sometimes back-to-back with morning ones. Last night's, if he remembered correctly, was helping a merchant who was looking to skip town without paying his debts off to the Coterie. Such jobs were routine for her. Quentin could already see the blood that coated her hairline and her fingernails. Though he was sure she had tried to wipe as much of it off as possible as to not create alarm, he had to imagine that her job did not go as smoothly as his.

Upon taking his position next to her, Quentin handed over the bottle of brandy. This caught his sister off guard momentarily. She probably expected some shiny trinket that they could pawn. The brandy, however, was much more warmly received. Claudia hugged the bottle close, confirming his suspicions that she had a terrible night.

"You're the _best_ , Quentin, you know that?"

"That's not all for you, just so you know." Quentin reminded. "But, I know. You're lucky you have Thedas's best brother at your side."

Claudia responded with a muffled grunt. She had the cork nestled between her teeth, desperately relying on the force her jaw could exert coupled with her own natural strength to loosen the object. Her efforts were not paying off. No matter how hard she tried, all the woman was managing to do was cause herself to go red in the face and grow further frustrated than she already was.

Quentin chuckled, producing a small knife that he kept on his person in case of emergencies. Keeping Claudia from going insane because she couldn't get the cork out of her liquor bottle was definitely one of those situations. "Let me try."

"Be my guest."

Claudia relinquished the bottle. When Quentin got his hands on the neck of it, he was instantly greeted with what lingered of his sister's saliva. He grimaced, wiping the hand that had become coated in it on her shoulder. In response, he received her elbow to his rib. Ignoring the slight ache, he buried the blade of his knife into the cork, deep enough that it would not become dislodged easily. Then, with a yank and an audible _pop_ the blasted cork came free.

Before Quentin had the opportunity to announce his success, Claudia had pried the bottle from his hand in such a haste that he would wager her life depended on it. She took a prolonged swig, sighing contentedly as she passed the bottle back to him.

"Tell Athenril that the liquor she fronts her business with isn't half bad." Purred Claudia.

Quentin took a drink. The brandy went down smooth, warming his insides the second it trickled down his throat. After, he set the bottle between the both of them for ease of drinking.

"Can't. My contract is up. Last night was my last working for her."

"No." Spat Claudia, already invested in her second sip. "We have two days left, remember?"

Quentin fidgeted anxiously. While the drink had no doubt warmed her up, he could tell Claudia was still in one of her moods. Informing her that he was let out of his contract early would probably worsen it. "You see," He squeaked, "Athenril is calling my contract fulfilled. She let me out of it two days early."

"You bastard!" Howled Claudia. She punched him in the arm, but lightly, and without real malice. Quentin released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Meeran's trying to milk me for all of the work he can possibly get out of me in the next two days. He thinks I'm desperate enough to stick around after the year is up."

"Are you?"

"I can't say for certain. It would definitely be nice to actually get _paid_. You know, not having to rush in on the people I kill and go through their pockets just to make ends meet."

"If you don't want to go back to him, you could always—"

"—Don't even suggest it, Quentin." Claudia's tone was dark and frightening. Had he not known her better enough, he would have assumed that she would hurt him then and there.

"I wasn't. I was _going_ to say that you could do odd jobs around Kirkwall. Go freelance. People know who you are now. They know you can get the job done. And, since you're one person, you can charge them a lower price as to be competitive with the Red Iron, but still enough to get by."

"Yeah, I guess." Claudia drank from the bottle again.

From behind them, the sound of clanking metal greeted their ears. Both Hawke siblings turned around, anticipating finding a guardsman with the intention of shooing them off for loitering. But, many of the guards didn't like patrolling the docks because of the Qunari.

Aveline stood there, critically looking over the bottle of brandy which Claudia was bringing to her lips.

"Hello, Aveline." Greeted Quentin.

Claudia murmured her greeting into the bottle and nodded her head.

"Drinking, at dawn?" Asked the warrior, judgmentally.

Aveline amazed Quentin. Since coming to Kirkwall, she had secured a position in the city guard. On every occasion that he had seen her, she seemed pleased with her work, and always gave it everything she had. He had to respect her industrious nature. Once a month, she would come by with a purse full of coin to offer the Hawke family for their help in getting her to Kirkwall. It was her payment for unintentionally passing her debt over to Quentin and Claudia.

With a humored snort, Claudia looked to the bottle, then up to Aveline. "Haven't you heard?" Chimed the rogue. "Brandy is the breakfast of champions."

Aveline shook her head, but took a seat regardless. She was offered some of their shared liquor, but refused it politely. "It was another rough night, then."

"You have no idea." Another drink. "So, some dwarf hires the Iron to help him out of the city. Apparently, he was skipping out of town with debts outstanding to the Coterie."

Aveline made a sour face.

"We were about halfway through the sewers when the Coterie catches us. Those they sent to apprehend their man were mostly dwarves. So, we're trying to protect the dwarf who hired us, but we're being ambushed by about ten other dwarves, and when they all have those big, bushy beards, you cannot tell one from the other—it was a mess. We managed to get out of there without any casualties, but some of our men were injured."

"Andraste's tits!" Cursed Quentin.

"You should probably get home, then." Suggested Aveline. "Your mother is probably worried sick."

Claudia waved her hand dismissively at the idea. "I want to watch the ships come in, first. It calms me down."

Aveline gave Claudia a firm look, telling the woman to obey. "You're getting drunk at the docks, Claudia. Someone is bound to complain when you become raucous and inconsolable."

"I do not do _that_."

Quentin pursed his lips, choosing to remain silent.

"Yes, you do." Aveline was unwavering. "And, I would rather not close off my patrol with having to pry you off of someone because when you get alcohol in you, you either become exceedingly amorous or violent. Sometimes both."

"And sometimes people deserve to be hit."

"Claudia."

"Aveline."

Aveline sighed heavily. "Sometimes I feel like I'm talking with a child."

"Tell you what," Started Claudia, "play a game with me. If you do, I'll go back home. If you don't, who's to say what I'll do."

"I'm not in the mood for games, Claudia."

"I won't go home until you play."

Quentin watched as Claudia became even pushier. Aveline was not the type for idle games, whereas his sister was. He had an idea what she wished to play. It was the very reason why she enjoyed coming to the docks and watching the ships come in. Quentin had to admit, he kind of wished to play as well. It reminded him of their father.

"Fine!" Scoffed Aveline. "I'll play your game. What is it?"

"See that ship?" Claudia pointed to the one that had just docked as he got out of Athenril's warehouse. People, most likely refugees, were slowly filtering off of it and into the city.

"What about it?"

"We'll choose someone from the ship—ideally the most outrageous-looking person—and we try to guess their story. There are no winners or losers, so don't feel pressured to one-up me."

The warrior looked over at Claudia, her face etched with concern and annoyance. "That seems rude."

Claudia shook the bottle gently, hearing the contents slosh around before casting the guardswoman a look of pure mischief. "Oh, look. The bottle is already half-gone."

"Fine, I'll play." Spat the woman. "Why do you want to play games, though?"

"We used to play with Father when we were children." Assured Claudia. Quentin nodded in agreement. "The brandy has me feeling sentimental, so I want to play."

"First order of business is to choose our target." Announced Quentin. He focused on the steady stream of refugees slinking past them in an effort to get into Kirkwall. Many of which were unassuming, poor in appearance. They probably spent their last bit of coin to even get here. That was when he found the perfect candidate.

There was a man trailing behind the main group. He was fair, in both complexion and appearance. His wheat-colored hair was pulled up in a half ponytail. It wasn't his features that he noticed, however. It was his outlandish fashion sense. Everything this man wore was either a deep hunter green or a warm woodsy brown. His coat was long, dipping just past his knees and barely scraping the tops of his boots. Then, there were the feathered pauldrons. Quentin had never met someone from the Imperium, but this was always how he imagined they would dress.

He looked to Claudia, who was too occupied with drinking herself to the Void to notice the prime target walking their way. So, Quentin nudged her and motioned subtly towards who he had chosen.

"He's perfect, isn't he?"

Claudia froze.

Something caused Claudia's azure eyes to cloud over as she looked at the man. Her grip on the bottle loosened, causing it to slip until she was just barely clutching onto the lip. Fear crossed her expression, a real, deafening terror that was chased away with a simple head shake and her looking away quickly.

"I don't want to play anymore." Announced Claudia hastily. She seemed to be in a hurry to get away as soon as possible.

"What?" Aveline was surprised. "You were insistent upon playing, but now you want to go?"

"Yes." Curtly remarked Claudia. "Am I not allowed to change my mind? I wish to go now."

Aveline shrugged, not one to argue when the tides suddenly turned to her favor. She rose first, then turned a hand to help up Quentin and Claudia in turn. Not another word was breathed from her about the sudden change in plans. She was probably just grateful to be out of that mess.

While on the way home, Quentin could still see that Claudia was agitated. He couldn't figure out why, but something about that man bothered her. Perhaps she found him attractive and wanted to avoid being near him long enough to get caught gawking. That wasn't her, though. Aveline's pace soon quickened, giving him an opportunity to step in-pace with his sister and ask her why she suddenly became so squirrely.

"What happened back there?" Asked Quentin.

Claudia tensed at his question. She was intending on avoiding that subject. It was spelled out on her face. However, she relented with a haughty breath. "I…I don't know. I just…I got a weird feeling about that man. It's hard to explain."

"One of your 'visions'?"

"Not _visions_." Scoffed Claudia. "A feeling. I felt like—like I know him. Or I will. I _saw_ nothing, except that mess of feathers he wore. It's just…I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Quentin processed her words, recognizing that this feeling she had was very scary to her and causing great amounts of distress. He didn't like putting her through that, especially after she had a shitty day. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Quentin put on a cheesy grin.

"You're probably just exhausted and a bit tipsy. Let's get you to bed."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me and my weird work schedule fluctuations. Next week should be a normal week for me (IE: I should be able to post), however, I am unsure about the week following that as I have yet to see what my hours are. For the time being, I will say that I should be able to post a chapter.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

"Aveline!"

Claudia flitted around the barracks at full-speed after the guardswoman, who was effectively ignoring how the rogue whined her name out in a pitiful attempt to sway her. Naturally, this frustrated Claudia, but she was doing her best to remain calm. Since coming to Kirkwall, she didn't see much of the guardswoman, so taking this rare opportunity she did snag to blow up in the other woman's face would only land her in hot water. The last thing she needed was to get thrown out of Viscount's Keep. She opened her mouth again, uttering only the first syllable of her companion's name before the warrior cut her off with a drawn-out sigh. This was going nowhere.

"Don't you have someone else to pester?" Asked Aveline, clearly intent on getting some work done, despite the annoyance she was presented with.

"Not since I was out of a job two weeks ago."

In an attempt to garner some sympathy, the rogue chose to mention her current employment status, or, lack thereof, to be precise. It had been a rough two weeks, trying to find odd work wherever she could. However, she was _still_ Ferelden, no matter how much she dressed like a Marcher. People, those who didn't know that she once ran with Meeran's gang, didn't trust her. She had gone to Aveline, hoping that she could pick up some jobs that the guard was either too busy to do, or above. Claudia wasn't above dirtying her own hands, especially if it meant keeping her family fed.

Something in Aveline's demeanor changed as she looked on Claudia, who was doing her best to appear pitiful and in need. Instead of rolling her eyes and looking as though the other woman had sprouted a second head, a thought struck her. Claudia recognized that familiar furrowing of her eyebrows.

"Do you know who Bartrand Tethras is?"

"No." Hummed Claudia. "But he sounds like a dwarf."

"He is. Word is, he's looking to form an expedition into the Deep Roads in the near future."

Claudia wrinkled her nose. "Who in their right mind would willingly go into the Deep Roads? Except Wardens, that is."

"Treasure hunters, I'd wager." From the way Aveline shrugged, she wasn't quite sure who would venture down there as well. "But, if you're looking to make some coin, you and Quentin should go see if he's hiring anyone else to come with. For a job like that, the pay has to be decent."

"You know I hate Darkspawn." Huffed Claudia flippantly.

"Yes, but it's a _paying_ job, Claudia. Beggars cannot be choosers."

Claudia pursed her lips in silent surrender. Aveline was right, as she always was. This was probably why she and her siblings deferred to her on many issues. Still, the idea of trudging through putrid, taint-covered holes didn't set her mind—or stomach—at ease. Wearing a look of complete calm, she nodded agreeably, sucking up her pride in this fleeting moment.

Still, she had to wager that this expedition was still a fair ways away from right then, and there were still mouths to feed. Gamlen hadn't been much help in that capacity, which infuriated their mother. Sometimes, he even possessed enough audacity to ask them to start paying rent, and after it was he who sold them into slavery. Claudia had to do what she could to diffuse the tension at home, that was, without putting her fist in her uncle's eye socket and hoping for the best.

"You know," Hummed Claudia as she cast a curious glance at the duty roster on the wall, "that expedition is good and all, but it doesn't feed my family today. Do you think you could drum up some other work for me to do until then? Something…off the books, if you will?"

Aveline cast her a wary glance, probably because of Claudia's request. The rogue shrugged this off. However, the guardswoman didn't look as though she were about to tell her to go fuck herself and kindly as her to leave the Barracks while she possessed all limbs and in working order. Instead, she cast her eyes to the duty roster briefly before returning to her companion.

"Are you free later today?"

"Why, asking me out on a date?" Joked Claudia.

"No." Scoffed Aveline. "I have a patrol later today near Sundermount, but I fear that it may be too much for me to handle on my own."

"Nonsense!" Boomed the rogue, throwing her hands up animatedly. "The mighty Aveline can conquer any foe that blocks her path!"

"You can stop buttering me up any day now." Though, she smiled. "Normally, one guard would be enough. That route has been empty for weeks. However, raiders have been spotted there of recent. I may require reinforcements."

"So, you're outsourcing?"

"Basically." Aveline nodded once in agreement. "Meet me at the city gates around Noon. You may wish to bring your brother or sister as well, just in case."

Claudia hummed in understanding. "See you later, then."

Wasting little time, Claudia headed out of the Barracks. Quentin, to her delight, was waiting near the doors that led out of Viscount's Keep. Earlier, when she had left the house to go there, he had been preoccupied with other matters and couldn't be bothered to leave them. Now, however, he seemed to be free. And, they had that matter of that Bartrand Tethras person to settle.

"Any luck?" Asked the blonde, opening the door graciously for his sister and the proceeding to follow her out.

"Plenty, actually." She grinned cheekily. "Aveline wants her to meet her by the city gates in a couple of hours to help her with clearing out some rabble near Sundermount."

"Sounds entertaining."

"That isn't all of it." The pair were walking in-stride, Claudia narrowly dodging a man so consumed with reading a book that he hadn't noticed her. "She mentioned that someone named Bartrand Tethras is funding an expedition to the Deep Roads and may need some hirelings. He probably pays well too—he's a dwarf."

"I've heard about that." Quentin's eyes gleamed with promise. "Some of the guys who work for Athenril have mentioned it. He's a merchant here in Hightown looking to make some easy coin."

"How is _that_ easy coin?"

Quentin grinned this time. "Don't you know how the 'spawn work?"

"No." Shrugged Claudia. "The only thing I know is that I don't want them close to me and that they bleed when you stab them."

"The Deep Roads are supposed to be virtually empty so soon after a Blight. I guess those Wardens kicked a lot of Darkspawn ass. But, that isn't the point. They're empty, so you can just walk in and _take_ what you want. You're down there a couple weeks, claim some Dwarven artifacts that someone will pay a pretty penny for, and you're rich with minimal effort."

"Shit! Why didn't we think of that?"

"Because we're idiots. Anyway, I think I know where we can find Bartrand. Follow me."

Quentin led the way through Hightown, which astounded Claudia greatly. Many of the buildings looked the same to her, so getting lost was very much an inevitability for her. However, he wove through the streets with practiced precision. She wagered that he must have been so familiar with the layout because he liked to window shop at the whorehouse. Claudia tried to imagine what it was like to be one of the _working girls_ when he came by, trying her hardest to make a sale, only to have him banish them with a wave of the hand and the promise 'oh no, I'm just looking'.

Where he led them was in front of a stone building. Like all buildings in Kirkwall, the construction was Tevinter, but there was a proud statue out front, one that looked Dwarven. This had to be the place. The both of them headed inside.

There were crates everywhere inside, many still opened and filled with all manners of things. There were some small trinkets and baubles that lined some shelves that also looked of Dwarven make, solidifying the theory that this was a dwarf who worked there. In back, someone was yelling in a brassy tone. The words, though in the King's Tongue, were so rushed out that they made little sense to the pair.

Shortly after, the yelling ceased and a man walked into the room from the back. He was, in fact, a dwarf, and very much the stereotypical sort. His hair and beard were a strawberry blonde color and neatly styled in a fashion typical for his race. The clothes he wore were also of Dwarven make, and in impeccable condition. He took one look at the two of them and rolled his eyes prior to even asking them why they had come there in the first place.

"Whadaya want?" Bellowed the dwarf.

"Are you Bartrand Tethras?" Inquired Claudia.

"Yeah. Who are you?" Only one question in and Bartrand looked as though he would throw them out. This was not going well.

"I am Claudia Hawke, and this," She gestured towards Quentin, "is my brother, Quentin."

"Quaint." Spat Bartrand. "Are you here to buy something, or just to waste my time? I have a shipment to pick up in ten minutes."

Quentin cast Claudia a look of sheer distress. No matter how either of them tried to look at it, the situation was sinking faster than a lead ship. To make matters worse, it was obvious that the dwarf was trying to shove them out the door before they had even mustered two words.

"No." Laughed Claudia. "We're not here to shop."

"Thought so. You look poorer than those gutter rats that live in Darktown. Now get the fuck out of my shop; you've wasted enough of my time."

Much to her dismay, Quentin was ready to cut his losses and leave. The idea of being a hireling for a dwarf as difficult as the one before them probably didn't sit well with him. Claudia, under different pretenses, would have given some choice words and stormed off herself. However, she was keenly aware that she needed this chance. Kirkwall's job market was somewhat limited to either killing people or going to work in some sort of factory or quarry. And, while killing people was something of a talent, it was also a very dangerous profession to have. Bartrand, though he was probably unaware of it, was a promise of some security. A man crazy enough to be planning an expedition to the Deep Roads had to be paying enough to convince others that this was genuinely a good idea.

By the time Claudia was firmly paying attention once more, Bartrand was already halfway out the door.

Claudia chased after him, closely followed by Quentin. "Wait!"

"What is it now?" Snapped Bartrand from over his shoulder.

In a matter of a couple of paces, Claudia was caught up with the dwarf, who appeared none too thrilled that he didn't shake her so easily. "We heard that you're planning an expedition to the Deep Roads and were wondering if you were looking to hire a few more on."

"Listen, Sweet Cheeks, half of Kirkwall has heard that I'm planning an expedition to the Deep Roads and wants in. What makes you think that you and your brother are any different?"

Despairing, Claudia was about to give up. Her steps faltered, causing her to fall behind Bartrand half a pace. Being a pleasant sort of person in order to get this job was wearing down on her, especially as she was floundering like a fish out of water. She looked to Quentin, who shrugged, and then pantomimed drinking alcohol as his only idea. With no ideas to contribute herself, Claudia was desperate enough to make such a suggestion.

"Why don't we buy you a drink? Come, get to know us. Perhaps you'll see what sets us apart from the other half of Kirkwall."

Bartrand snorted. "Back of the line, Honey. I'm the most popular man in this city right now."

In an effort to catch up with Bartrand, who was speeding up exponentially by the second in order to lose them, Claudia didn't notice that they entered the Hightown shopping district. People were crammed close, closer than she anticipated. A young man skirted past, shoulder checking the rogue as he tried to maneuver around her. Having the skills she did, Claudia quickly noticed that his hand drifted down towards her belt—where her purse was hanging—as he slammed into her.

"Hey!" Howled Claudia, but the young man had already taken off in a brisk sprint.

Claudia was quick and typically nimble, both being skills that were utterly useless in a crowded area. She shoved passed people who were too consumed with shopping to care that some thug had just stolen from her. These were the sort of people who cried for the city guard when she pushed them out of her way.

By the time that she broke free from the crowded shopping area, however, the youth was gone. Claudia clenched her hand into a fist and punched a nearby stone wall, instantly regretting that particular decision as her knuckles throbbed in pain. Quentin was just catching up, breathless and wheezing, but otherwise fine. Bartrand was nowhere to be seen.

Then, a sudden yelp of pain cut the air. Both Hawke siblings looked around, quickly figuring that it came from a side alley. They took off in search of it, hoping it was the thief.

There, pegged to the wall with nothing but an arrow lodged in his shoulder was their culprit. His face was contorted in pain as a dwarf baring a resemblance to Bartrand chided him from stealing from his betters. Unlike Bartrand, however, he had a strapping, roguish quality, his hair pulled back in a half ponytail, and he was completely beardless, save the stubble on his chin. Overall, he was handsome for a dwarf, a thought that Claudia would have never believed she would have had up until that point. The beard, if he had ever possessed one, looked as though it fell off his face and onto his chest. He then reached into the boy's leathers and pulled out Claudia's purse. Initially, Claudia figured the nameless dwarf to be a thief was well, one who had pegged her as his target long before the boy, whimpering like a puppy in pain. The dwarf then removed his arrow from his target, amber eyes gleaming with mischief as he cast them to Quentin and Claudia and tossed them the purse.

"Morning, Lady, Gentleman." He boomed, twirling his arrow playfully around his fingers.

"Morning." Mused Claudia, dumbfounded. "Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Varric Tethras, at your service." The dwarf—Varric—bowed, giving the both of them the glimpse at the handsome crossbow strapped to his back.

"My name is Quentin, and this is my sister, Claudia." This time, Quentin introduced them. He appeared far more relieved than Claudia, who, after receiving her purse back, slipped it into her leathers without thought to count it and make sure everything was there.

"I saw you talking to Bartrand back there."

"More like begging." Grumbled Claudia. She didn't bother to question how he had seen them while being so quick to apprehend the thief. "I was getting nowhere."

"The thing about my brother is, he wouldn't know an opportunity if it walked up and bit him in the ass. I take it that the pair of you were trying to get into his expedition."

"Failing." Claudia's mood was souring by the second.

"Wait, you're Bartrand's _brother_?" Questioned Quentin in disbelief.

"I know," Lamented Varric, "I got all the looks."

Quentin and Claudia both sniggered discreetly at his humor.

"We don't need another hireling for this expedition. What we _need_ is a partner—or two. Someone to help fund the expedition, someone whom we would split the spoils with."

Claudia was confused as to why this man was coming to her with this. Sure, she believed him to be Bartrand's brother, given the similarities in appearance. But, for the past year, her life had been nothing but a series of maladies. She highly doubted that it would all just turn around because this person before he truly believed that he could get her included in their expedition. Likewise, she didn't see how she could win Bartrand's good graces and become a partner.

"How, pray tell, do you suppose we become a partner?"

"It's simple." Hummed Varric in a way that made her want to trust him. "Currently, Bartrand and I are funding this expedition out of our own pockets. If someone else were to contribute to this—say fifty sovereigns—he wouldn't be able to resist."

"Fifty sovereigns?" Quentin stammered back in shock. He was clutching his chest, unable to process such a large amount of money. People like them didn't have access to such wealth. "And just how are we supposed to come across that sort of coin?"

"Kirkwall is brimming with people who need work done and are willing to pay. Just save a little bit after every job and you'll have the money in no time."

"That still doesn't help us with Bartrand's poor attitude towards us." Claudia folded her arms across her chest.

"You let me handle Bartrand. The both of you just worry about collecting that coin." Varric winked impishly. "Come see me at the Hanged Man later. I may have some ideas as to how to get this ball rolling by then."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Happy belated Holidays and sorry for the delay. Long story short, I got a new computer for Christmas, due to my old one being on its last legs. I've spent the break primarily trying to transfer files from one computer to the other while simultaneously dealing with long hours at work. I still haven't finished, but I cannot delay posting any longer.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Claudia was quickly coming to realize that Kirkwall's landscape was as unpredictable as the people who called it home.

She had only ventured out of the city on sparing missions that required it, often to her dismay. And, each time, she was greeted with something that she didn't consider to be complementary to one another. Kirkwall wasn't quite a peninsula, not geographically speaking. The city sat on the northern shore of the Waking Sea, almost directly across the body of water was the Ferelden city of Highever. However close, the Free Marches was warmer, less desolate in the winter. The Planasene Forest flanked the western part of the city, and acted as the only passage into Nevarra. To the north were the Vimmark Mountains, which served as a physical transition from the lush forestry into the less forgiving deserts that the Free Marches shared with Antiva. Kirkwall itself exhibited the characteristics of each of these. At the base of Sundermount—their destination—the land was arid and dry, yet, the closer to the mountain you got, more foliage grew. Likewise, the mountain itself was teeming with all sorts of flora and fauna that many herbalists sought to explore.

Lucky for them, Aveline had a keen idea as to where they were headed. Claudia wasn't necessarily bad with directions, however, she was unfamiliar with the routes that the guardsmen took when on patrol. More fortunate than that was that their guide knew what she was looking for as far as raiders and bandits were concerned. Granted, the signs for marauders were fairly obvious: camps that were hurriedly set up, and possibly abandoned, overturned caravans that were looted of anything possessing monetary value. That sort of thing.

"What are you expecting to find?" Asked Quentin. He had been clutching his staff for the better part of an hour, always alert for those who might cause them harm. Up until that point, however, they've only encountered a handful of wild dogs—coyotes or hyenas, perhaps—and an odd phoenix or two.

"I'm _hoping_ we find nothing." Admitted Aveline. Her tone, however, said that she doubted such an outcome.

Nearly half an hour of trudging through sand, with only the briefest glimpses of the sea followed. The wind kicked up the sand once in a while, halting progress. Yet, they were determined. Mostly Aveline. She powered through the delays like the true champion she was, often chiding the others for not being able to keep up. Even so, she would often slow down to allow them time enough to catch up to her.

It was during a particularly nasty bout of wind that they received an odd feeling. Claudia noticed it first, having thought she heard cautious steps following close behind. Her body became rigid, alert. Fingers danced over the hilts of her daggers in preparation of combat. Both Aveline and Quentin either noticed the shift in her body language, or had felt it too. They each held tighter onto their weapons, to the point where their knuckles had started to go white.

No matter how prepared they thought they were, they were still ambushed.

About ten men, all clad in leathers, appeared from behind boulders and seemingly from the sand. All of them carried their own weapons and were ready to strike without remorse. Two of them quickly circled around Aveline, who raised her shield to protect her vitals as a precautionary measure. Quentin looked for an escape, but found himself quickly apprehended by four men who acted more like fleshy walls to keep him boxed in. Claudia was outnumbered, just the same. Two men had her trapped between them and a particularly large boulder, hindering any attempt she may have made at flanking any of them. Meanwhile, the two remaining cycled between their three targets.

The two delaying Aveline acted first. One charged, but was quickly met with the full force of her shield. He knocked back several feet after a loud _thump_. This caused his friend to approach her more cautiously. He tried to find some ground around her, but only moments after she presented his friend with a face full of steel, she slashed her unrelenting sword at him, hitting her mark. The raider recoiled, clutching his wound in an attempt to curb the bleeding.

Meanwhile, Quentin was divvying out precisely-timed blows with the staff, coupled with the occasional burst of violet-hued lightning. His assailants had—correctly—pegged him as the mage of their group, but most likely anticipated that he would be more static in combat style. With a mad cackle, he watched as one of his pursuers fell prey to his lightning as he managed to impale another on the bladed end of his staff.

Claudia only just narrowly dodged a devastating stab to the weak point in her leathers with careful footing. With the confusion that her movement caused, the rogue was afforded enough leeway to weave behind one of the men and perform a backstab. She thanked her lucky stars in a hasty prayer under her breath that her blades went in seamlessly. And, that the other scoundrel wasn't behind her, doing the same. As she rose her blades up to assault the other, he landed a particularly powerful kick to her chest. The rogue stumbled back several feet, having the wind knocked completely out of her.

When the man approached, brandishing his sword with the intention of ending her, Aveline acted quickly. She banged her weapon onto her shield, giving Claudia time enough to catch her breath and sneak in for the kill. As he stalked after the warrior, the woman crept behind him and slit his throat in a practiced manner.

By the time both women were once again ready to join the fray, Quentin had already ended the last of the raiders. What remained of them lay in slightly twitching heaps on the sandy floor, acting purely on the residual magic still encompassing them rather than their own volition.

Aveline wiped off her blade as she looked over the bodies of the fallen, her face etched in a prominent scowl. It didn't take blood magic to know what she was thinking. This wasn't supposed to happen. The route they took was supposed to be safe.

Even while having enough insight to know that their warrior friend was not satisfied with her outcome, Quentin still asked. "Was this route supposed to be dangerous?"

"No." Starkly remarked Aveline. "It's been clear for weeks." She shook her head, eyes glassing over as she gazed at one of their foes with a much deeper concentration. "We should go report this to Jeven."

—Later—

For the better part of an hour, Quentin and Claudia had waited outside of Captain Jeven's office as Aveline gave her report. They remained silent, save for when Claudia picked up on a particularly nasty bit that the captain hissed out and had to share. Yelling followed. A lot of yelling. Soon, their own connection came under scrutiny, causing the siblings to wrinkle their noses in contempt and think of worse things they could do to Jeven, besides clearing an ambush for him.

When Aveline finally exited the office, she was in a rage. The door flew open, practically smacking Quentin in the face, if he hadn't the mind to move when he heard her steel-clad footsteps approaching. She was red from the ears down, but not from embarrassment. She was _furious._

The warrior made her way to the duty roster, grumbling something about 'stepping on someone's toes' as she did so. The siblings followed close behind, attempting to peer over her shoulder whenever it wasn't completely obvious.

"Aveline!"

A woman with blonde hair and dressed in a similar regalia to the warrior approached swiftly. A look of relief was on her face, one that caught the three off-guard. "Thank you for clearing the route for me. I don't reckon I would have made it without your help."

"Brennan?" Gasped Aveline. "That was your route?"

"Yeah. Jeven's been having us run the satchel to the outpost during light duty."

"The satchel? Questioned Claudia.

"Updated duty rosters, that sort of thing. Oddly enough, the satchel was heavy this time."

Claudia watched as Aveline's brows furrowed in contemplation. The wheels in her own head were beginning to turn as well, one that made her think that perhaps Jeven wasn't as squeaky clean as his job in the guard would paint him. After all, he did make an awful big deal about Aveline taking on a route that wasn't hers.

"Who did you pass the satchel onto, Brennan?"

"Donnic. I think he just left for his patrol."

Aveline whipped around, facing at duty roster once more. Her eyes scanned the document like a hawk on the hunt. She was so invested in her search that she was unaware of her talking. "Donnic. Donnic. Good man, that one." She said, mostly to herself. Claudia and Quentin each cast each other a suspicious glance.

"We need to go to Lowtown." Demanded the guardswoman. She wasn't about to accept any other answer. "If we hurry, we might make it in time to stop the next ambush."

The three sprinted as fast as they could to Lowtown. Traversing was tricky, due to the quickly-setting sun and people looking to do some last-minute shopping before the stalls closed. Fortunately enough, the armor that Aveline wore carried a certain reputation. One that told people to disperse when they saw her rushing through the streets, closely followed by her two companions. And, to add to their luck, the warrior knew the patrols so well that she had a good idea where Donnic would most likely be ambushed. The pair didn't bother with questioning her; it would just waste valuable time.

Upon their arrival, things did not look good for the man that could only be Donnic. He was surrounded on all sides, slowly backing into a corner, his weapon drawn, but unwavering. Something tripped him up, probably a rock, causing him to tumble to the ground and sending him into an even more vulnerable position.

Before the bandits were able to strike, Aveline charged in, sword swinging like a mad woman. Her attempts were not in vain. The men dispersed from Donnic, instead, latching onto the female warrior and her companions.

The bandits were taken care of with little issue. Aveline was so pumped on adrenaline and anger that she took out the most of them by herself. While she helped Donnic to his feet, Claudia managed to locate the satchel. She was amazed by how weighty it was, especially considering it was meant to be nothing but a couple loose bits of parchment. When she opened it, she was rather unsurprised to find it full of various valuables, many centering on sovereigns and expensive-looking jewelry.

"Aveline." Hummed Donnic, his face calm as he looked into hers. "You are a beautiful sight."

The warrior could only grin like a silly teenage girl. "Guardsman Donnic—"

"—I don't mean to interrupt your flirting, but I think you should look at this."

Claudia received an icy stare from her friend, but was unperturbed. She got their attention, which was all she really wanted. Aveline walked over, taking the bag from the rogue and giving it a good inspection before casting it aside angrily. If the bag full of things of value wasn't enough, the men and women assaulting Donnic looked like members of the Coterie. Aveline seemed to have noticed this already.

"Captain Jeven has been sending guards to their deaths." Growled Aveline. Whatever she was thinking, Claudia assumed it had to do with beating her higher up to a bloody pulp.

"Screw city guard." Hummed the rogue light-heartedly, despite the mood not calling for her humor. "Jeven should be in politics."

"Not now, Claudia." Groaned Aveline. "I'm going to help Donnic back to the barracks and report this to the Viscount at once. Jeven cannot be allowed to continue like this." Prior to leaving, the ginger-haired warrior intercepted the satchel once more. She looked through its contents once again, perhaps considering if it would be crooked to pay them with Jeven's dirty money. Shaking her head, Aveline secured the satchel to her belt, causing Claudia to look at her pitifully. A satchel full of gold would have gone very far to getting her and Quentin declared as partners in Bartrand's expedition.

"Come by the barracks tomorrow." Offered Aveline. "I'll make sure you're paid then."

Claudia could see that Aveline was in no mood for an argument. As such, she pursed her lips and nodded her head, even if fistfuls of coin were just beyond her reach and quickly growing further away. She sighed, knowing that whatever money they were given for their services would pale in comparison to what she had previously had in her mitts. She hadn't even noticed Quentin digging around in the pockets of their fallen enemies until she made to return home. He jogged to catch up, and when he did, dumped a fistful of silver and bronze into her hand. Two stray gold pieces sat in the lot.

"It's not much, but it's a start." Optimistically remarked Quentin.

Claudia nodded, resigning to agree out of sheer exhaustion. "We should go see that dwarf, Varric, tomorrow, though. He might have thought of some ideas by then."

"Agreed."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I'm picking up more hours at work next week, so I may be unable to post an update. I'll work on the next chapter this coming weekend, so hopefully I'll have it up and ready for next week.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Even at nearly noon, the Hanged Man was as busy as ever. Quentin couldn't fathom how so many people seemingly had no jobs to speak of, but could afford ale, nonetheless. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, he would have humored if the tavern that shared a wall with their uncle's house wasn't only a step above a cesspit. The air was heavy and musty with stale liquor and piss. Along with a packed tavern at midday, this confused him. How was it that people couldn't find a bucket or take it outside when nature called? But still, it was a cheerful establishment, with the pretty serving girls and the jaunty music playing just above the general chatter or its patrons.

Claudia was near his side, looking as if she desired more to be deep in a bottle or something mind-altering that would warm her insides. Otherwise, she was complacent and quiet, two things that he would have thought odd if it wasn't for the purse of coins that jingled at her hip.

Aveline had been right. The guard _did_ pay well, more than they expected. And, their friend was up for a nice promotion now that Jeven was paying for his crimes against Kirkwall. Quentin probably would have made an off-color joke about having the Captain in his back pocket. Probably. He'd let Claudia have that, though. Her getting yelled at was far easier on him, not to mention mildly entertaining.

Just scanning the main seating area of the tavern, Quentin couldn't spot Varric. He would stand out like a sore thumb, given the fact that everyone else drinking here were of the human variety. The mage looked to his sister, a silent plea for her opinion on the matter. She shrugged, telling him that she hadn't the foggiest idea where they would find their most recent contact.

"I'll ask someone, then." Suggested Quentin, breaking their wordless conversation. Claudia nodded once in agreement to this.

A serving girl with her mousy hair tied up in a high bun headed passed them just in time for Quentin to flag her down. He was impressed how she managed to keep hold of her tray and all of the tankards she had on it when he had given her cause to stop so abruptly.

"Excuse me," Said the man, rubbing his neck in an embarrassed fashion, "we're looking for someone and was wondering if he's been in today."

"Depends." Said the serving girl. "It's generally frowned upon to…erm…tattle on the patrons when their wives are looking for them." She cast a wary eye to Claudia.

"Oh!" Quentin snorted as he looked over at his sister, who seemed particularly miffed about being thought to be someone's strung-out wife. "No, no, no. She is my sister, and we are looking for a friend. Well, not a friend. More of an _acquaintance_ , really. But, I digress. We're looking for a Dwarven man named Varric…Tethras, was it? He's blonde, longish hair—"

"—And enough chest hair to make a grizzly green with envy." Purred Claudia.

"I just adore how you reach for the chest hair first."

The serving girl pulled one of her hands from the tray, exhibiting an impressive balancing display while she stifled a giggle. "We all know Varric, here. His room is just up the stairs; you can't miss it. And, I believe he's in right now. Haven't seen him down here all morning."

"Thank you." Methodically hummed Quentin as he ushered for Claudia to follow.

The upstairs was just s filthy and dank as the first floor, but Quentin was not about to start complaining now.

Varric's door was ajar, lending the pair to believe that they were invited in without receiving any formal invitation. At least, that was how Claudia took it. The man watched in subtle amusement as she waltzed in as though she owned the place and instantly made herself comfortable.

In contrast to the Hanged Man's typical furnishings, Varric's room was adorned with the most expensive-looking pieces. Everything had that some chunky, blocky look typical of Dwarven craftsmanship. The pieces were comprised mostly of gray and black stone, with gold and red accents. Quentin thought it classy, especially among such squalor. The room itself was also quite large, and very tidy. Other than some parchment spread out across the table where they found the dwarf silently nursing a pint of something, he kept his possessions tucked out of sight. It gave his private quarters the feeling of a well-organized oasis among the chaos that was Lowtown.

"I was wondering when the two of you would show up." Mused Varric upon spotting the pair. He gestured warmly to the open chairs at the long table he was seated at, as if asking them to join him. Both did so, flanking either side of him, for he was at the head.

"We had some business with a friend to clear up, first." Hummed Claudia. She shook her purse full of coin happily for emphasis.

"You mean that scary-looking guardswoman with the red hair, right?" Asked Varric, eerily figuring out what the woman had meant without further explanation.

"Well, yes, but how did you know?"

"I have contacts all over the city." Stated the dwarf simply, a look of pure satisfaction settling on his face at their confusion. "Not a thing happens in Kirkwall that I don't hear about."

"Okay, good." Quentin fidgeted in his chair, shaking off the remaining discomfort about the man's spooky prediction. "For a second there, I was afraid that you had some sort of psychic ability, or something."

Varric dismissed his claims with a wave of the hand.

"So, have you figured out any way for us to get in good with your brother?" Claudia's question came nearly half a beat after Varric had put to bed the previous conversation. She seemed eager to get the ball rolling. "Other than us working ourselves to the bone just to bribe him."

"Actually, I have. I was thinking, that if you two could somehow provide the expedition with maps that showed entrances into the Deep Roads, he wouldn't be able to refuse."

"Why?" Inquired Quentin. His fingers busied themselves with tracing along an intricate carving in the table's surface. "Is the entrance we have a bad one?"

"Well, no, but given what we're up to, multiple entrances would be beneficial. We wouldn't want to get there, get a week down, only to find that our _only_ entrance is swarming with the 'spawn."

"And we all die bloody, gruesome deaths." Responded Claudia in a chipper fashion."

"Exactly."

Quentin chewed on the inside of his cheek, understanding the logic, but not quite grasping how they would go about the task of acquiring maps that showed entrances into the Deep Roads. Most people—no, all people—were usually pretty content with avoiding such terrible places, himself included. And, if it wasn't for the promise of monumental monetary payout, he wouldn't have agreed to this stupid scheme in the first place.

"That's all well and good, but where are we supposed to find such a map?"

Varric grinned in a way that made Quentin worry. The mage couldn't help but feel that he had a whole plan worked out, and that he had been waiting for them to come along just to have them do it. He didn't blame him, of course; it was efficient to outsource to poor, desperate Fereldens in search of work.

"We just need to find ourselves a Gray Warden."

"Hold on." Said Claudia, her voice dripping in its usual sarcasm. "Let me just swim across the Waking Sea and ask King Alistair or the Hero of Ferelden if they have any Warden maps I can borrow. I'm sure they would oblige."

"Don't go jumping into the water just yet." Warned Varric. "Word is, a rogue Gray Warden headed into Kirkwall with a group of refugees just a couple weeks ago. And, he supposedly has some maps with him."

"Damn, you really _do_ have contacts all over the city!" Boomed Quentin, rocking against his chair excitedly. Claudia seemed less enthused, but still focused on the task at hand. "I'm guessing you know everything about this person by now, including the color of his small clothes."

"Well, not exactly." Varric shrank in his chair, his boxy frame diminishing from slight embarrassment. "My contacts are having a hard time finding any information on this guy. Usually, it's a bit easier, but it appears as though someone is going out of their way to keep his identity a secret."

Claudia leaned in, elbows resting on the table and her chin settling into her palms. She put on a winning smile, one that Quentin was familiar with. From her body language, he could tell that she was thinking of something, perhaps so filthy in nature that he would feel the color rise to his cheeks.

"Until we meet this Warden, I'm just going to assume he's a sex kitten with soft, chocolate brown eyes."

Quentin opened his mouth to question his sister's odd fantasy involving objectifying someone she had never met, but she was quick to stop him with a finger raised to his lips in an effort to shush him up.

"I am well aware that Wardens probably aren't the most attractive people, due to all of the fighting, but let me have this until I'm proven wrong."

"Fine." Mumbled Quentin from behind his sibling's finger.

Retracting her finger, Claudia returned to Varric, who had silently observed the whole situation with a look of bemusement. The red head cracked a smirk as well, denoting that she was in a rather jovial mood, despite circumstances. "Is that all you know about the maps? If so, Quentin and I have our work cut out for us."

With a shake of his head, Varric renewed their spirits. "Actually, you're in luck. I hear that there's a woman named Lirene who has been helping out the refugees. If anyone would know where to find him, it would be her." The dwarf leaned back in his chair. His arms were placed lazily behind his head as he sunk deeper in a lounging position. "She runs a shop here in Lowtown if you'd like to go investigate."

"Sounds great." Quentin rose from his chair. Claudia was unwavering. In order to get her to rise from her spot, he nudged her elbow, breaking her focus on the thickness of their companion's chest hair. She got up, albeit a bit shakily. "Do you want to come with, Varric?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I've got nothing better to do, anyway."

Varric climbed from his chair and circled around the room until he reached the large bed. The handsome crossbow Quentin had seen him use earlier was sitting on the mattress, pristinely polished and ready for use. A quiver of arrows was propped against the bedside table. He slung that over his shoulder first, and then the bow. The mage hadn't thought their task to be a dangerous one, but he was happy that the dwarf had enough sense to approach it with caution, just the same.

Upon exiting the tavern, Quentin nearly ran head-first into Bethany, of all people. The young woman wore a look of utter shock initially. She grabbed her chest, sucking in several deep breaths in order to steady her quivering heart before her demeanor changed. Upon noticing that it was her siblings, relief washed over her, causing her posture to become more casual and comfortable than it had previously been.

"I am so glad I found you!" Chirped the young woman.

"Am I in trouble with Mother?" The utter lack of enthusiasm in Claudia's voice was harrowing. Probably because she was rather accustomed to being in trouble with their mother.

"No." Bethany shook her head. "There are some letters at home addressed to you and Quentin. And, I know you have been looking for work, so I wanted to tell you."

Before Claudia was given a chance to respond, Varric bowed slightly in Bethany's direction as a greeting. As Quentin witnessed this display, he fumbled slightly before finding himself once again. He hadn't even introduced the two, yet!

"My apologies. Varric, this is our younger sister, Bethany. Bethany, this is Varric Tethras. He's helping Claudia and I find work."

"Charmed." Bethany extended her hand out for shaking, which Varric intercepted suavely. Though the motion seemed to suggest something more intimate than the situation called for, Quentin was unalarmed. The dwarf seemed a charming sort, and paid it little heed.

"We were just on our way to go and talk to a woman who might be able to give us information that will help us on our whole 'unemployment' problem." Claudia said as clarification.

"Do you mind if I tag along? Mother and Uncle Gamlen have been arguing again."

"Not at all."

Within just a few short minutes, the four were outside a small building that led into Lirene's shop. Quentin had heard of it before, mainly because every Kirkwall native assumed that he went there, seeking charity. After all, the shop, _Lirene's Ferelden Imports_ was known for hiring Ferelden refugees, or helping them to find permanent sources of employment elsewhere. Also, she took up donations to help those in need. It was a noble task that this woman did, sure enough, but he only had heard of it in conversation.

Claudia led the way in, with Quentin following close behind. What he saw inside was frankly what he expected. The shop was small, and packed to the gills with things that made him sentimental and long for his homeland. He noticed a few statuettes of Mabari hounds carved from native wood. It vaguely looked like Ser Buscuit. Unsurprisingly, Claudia elbowed him and pointed them out. He nodded in agreement. Other than the things on display, the mage found himself shocked at how many people were at the counter, begging for work or money so they could feed their families. Quentin had known that the struggle of the refugee was difficult, but he was fortunate enough that he didn't have to live like that.

An older woman behind the counter was eyeing them suspiciously. He could only figure her to be Lirene herself. Claudia must have reached this same conclusion, for she strode confidently up to her, hands pressed firmly on the counter between them as she gave her the most winning smile she possessed.

"A little birdie told me that you know where a person can find a Gray Warden in this city."

"The only Gray Wardens I have heard of are back in Ferelden, Serrah." There was an unmistakable bite to this woman's tone, one that Quentin was surprised Claudia was taking so well.

Claudia shook of the venom effectively and bounced back in a matter of seconds. She flashed another smile, one that faltered much more than her first. She tapped her fist on the counter a couple times. It was nonthreatening, Quentin knew this. His sister was just uncomfortable with this not going as smoothly as she had probably envisioned.

"That's funny." Claudia chuckled nervously. "Because I hear that there's Warden here in the city, and I _really_ need to ask him some questions."

Lirene's eyes narrowed, causing the blood in Quentin's veins to freeze over. Bethany, who was at his side, seemed to be experiencing the same frost.

Next to Claudia, a woman with silver hair, who was just finishing her business with the woman standing next to Lirene, glanced over at the both of them. She cupped her chin momentarily before cutting in to the conversation. "I heard the Healer was one of them Wardens before coming here."

Upon this woman's remark, Lirene shot her a look that could only be described as a death glare. Claudia perked up, obviously pleased with how the tides have turned to her favor.

"A mage?" Asked Claudia, almost to herself. "This Warden is a mage?"

Lirene sighed, giving up the guise that she had no idea about the Warden. However, she was as prickly as ever, still refusing to relinquish his location to them. "Listen, the Healer doesn't have time for you to just…just storm in with your stupid questions."

Claudia brushed some of her hair over her shoulder, still riding on the afterglow of her minor success. "Then I'll be sure to ask him only very intelligent questions."

"The Healer, he came to the refugees of this city, closed their wounds, healed the sick, delivered their children. All without the thought of coin. He has been kind to these people in their time of need, and I will not see him turned in because of you."

With a flash of her canines, Quentin knew that Claudia had something on her mind. He himself still couldn't get over how perfect Lirene was making this 'Healer' sound. Sure, Quentin thought himself a decent enough person, but even he had his limits. This man, he seemed to go above and beyond what was expected of him. And, if he really was a mage, he wouldn't mind picking his brain. It would be refreshing to receive some insight on magic that wasn't strictly from the people he was related to.

"Tell me he has killer eyes and a nice smile." Cooed Claudia seductively, returning to her previous fantasy about sexy Gray Wardens. "I'll marry him on the spot."

Since walking in, Lirene hadn't been all that nice, or even hospitable to them. She had put up an impenetrable wall that Claudia was having a difficult time with. Quentin didn't blame her, but it certainly inconvenienced them. However, she giggled at Claudia's flirting with a man who wasn't even present. It wasn't that shocking for him to see his sister do such things. And, he was sure that Bethany felt the same.

"He has the eyes, alright." There was still a slight chuckle in Lirene's tone. She wore a dreamy expression that helped to further Claudia's theories. "But, I have never seen him smile. It is as though he has suffered more than the rest of us." There was a pause as the shop owner pursed her lips. She placed her fingers to them, considering something extensively before returning to Claudia. "Anders has never turned anyone away, and I doubt if he would wish me to do so, either. Seek out the lit lantern in Darktown. If you are in need, Anders will be there."

Claudia offered her thanks with the rest of them and left Lirene to help the rest of the people there. Quentin was pleased with how things turned out, and was very much focused on the current task at hand. That was, until he heard a familiar sort of clanking that he only attributed to coins from her right side. He swiveled his head over, noticing as the red haired woman was hastily fastening her coin purse back to her belt. It looked considerably lighter as well. Considering she did so in such a hurried, almost secretive fashion, the man chose not to draw attention to it. She would probably only turn on him.

A group of four or five men and women, each armed to the teeth and clad in protective gear, were waiting for the four as they exited Lirene's shop. Their leader approached them, anger spelled out on his face as he got threateningly close to Claudia. She, like usual, stood strong and proud. Quentin was unsure if this was a good or bad trait to have.

"We heard you asking about the Healer in there." The man bit of his words in a hostile manner, only causing Claudia to sink into an offensive stance. Quentin, on the other hand, did not wish for combat.

"Yeah?" Asked the woman bitterly. "What of it?"

"The Healer's the one good thing us Fereldens have, and we ain't about to see him turned over to the Templars by some 'waller stickin' her nose where it don't belong."

In a bout of bravery, Bethany stepped forth. Her stance was rigid, but nonthreatening as she looked the leader of this group dead in the eye. "We're just a group of Fereldens trying to stay out of the Templar's sight, just like you."

The man, dumbfounded, looked over the four of them curiously. He was most interested in Quentin and Bethany, who both had their staves strapped to their backs. Their weapons retained his interest longer than both Claudia and Varric combined. This made Quentin nervous.

When he came to, the man bowed his head apologetically, his men sheathing their weapons in quick succession. "I…uh…from the way you dressed, I figured you to be from Kirkwall. Long live our good King Alistair."

After a brief salute and a show of comradery, the group of armed men and women left.

Quentin turned to his companions, cheekily looking at each of them. When he glanced over at Bethany, he couldn't help the pride that swelled in his chest at his sister's bravery. Claudia exhibited this more physically by patting the girl on the back.

"I suppose we go to Darktown, now." Hummed the man.

"Great." Groused Claudia. "I was _so_ looking forward to spending my day trudging through the sewers!"


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I am changing the description/name/genre of the story to better fit the direction I'm moving with it, as a head's up. From now on, the story will be called 'Broken Promises' and be under the drama/romance category. Everything else about it will remain the same, including where I am going with it. I'm just admittedly terrible at choosing names and thought of a better one over the last week.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

His time in Kirkwall was proving to be far more difficult than previously anticipated.

Back in Ferelden, Anders had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that mixed incredible duty with the comforts of posh living. Yes, he had to slay Darkspawn, save small villages from said creatures, trudge through taint-covered holes in the earth, and generally act as a one-man medical wing for the Wardens he served with. His freedom from the Circle came at this cost, but he wasn't complaining. At least, no more than the rest of the Wardens. On his off time, he was often regarded as a hero at the local taverns, which he reveled in to its fullest extent. After the business with the Mother, King Alistair gave _all_ of the Wardens who served in Amaranthine fancy new titles—most likely at the request of his then-fiancée. Anders was no exclusion. Word traveled fast to the watering holes he frequented, probably because he'd ever so casually mention the rise in status whenever he was looking to get drunk and didn't want to pay. Some of the people actually did remember seeing him storm the city with the Hero of Ferelden, and would pay for his drinks for the night. And women, Maker bless them, would line up to hear of his dashing exploits and inquire if his _staff_ was in good, working order. Sometimes, they would even ask for a demonstration.

But, it was a lonely sort of success he felt. This sort of freedom, it was all he had ever hoped for, but he couldn't stop thinking about his brothers and sisters still trapped in bondage at the demands of the Chantry. Justice had, when he still possessed a body to call his own, reminded him of this, that he should use his position and rise into notoriety to help those who couldn't help themselves. Anders claimed to be selfish, that he didn't care about others as long as he could walk free himself. Excuses always made him feel a little more secure when really he was as terrified as a trembling child. _What could one man truly do_? This was a question Anders asked himself quite a bit when he'd pace his cell into the morning, mulling over his companion's thoughtful words. He thought of petitioning to the Circle on several occasions, bringing to light what upstanding citizens Neria, Solona, and he had become since joining the Wardens. Surely they couldn't ignore the suffering when they could see how much good mages could do out in the real world. _Give them a purpose_ he thought to write as his hand would quiver over a blank piece of parchment that he had hastily set out in order to write his request in his sleep-deprived state. _Teach them the dangers of the misuse of magic, and then send them out into the world in order to spread good throughout Thedas._ Whenever he'd bring quill to parchment, he would hesitate, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and dripping onto his writing surface. He couldn't do it. No matter how much his heart ached to bring change to the Circle, he couldn't. It was Anders' hidden shame, one he concealed with drunken debauchery and ill-humored jokes.

When Justice and he merged, Anders was given little option but to act. The Fade spirit tapped into that stout desire of his and dragged it to the forefront. Whatever self-preserving qualities he had harbored before were abandoned, but at a steep cost. He was still paying for it, still suffering for something that he had previously believed to be the right choice. As such, he had to give up the comforts he knew, the friendships he had formed, and all the fame and clout that his name once carried.

Now, he lived in Kirkwall's equivalent of the sewers. It stank like shit and misery, and Anders would go days without seeing a single glimmer of sunlight. His first week there, the mage would jokingly remind himself _at least it doesn't smell like dog._ The stench of dog was something that he hadn't ever gotten used to, ever since he came to Ferelden as a boy. In a way, he missed it. It was familiar, if awful.

He tried to fade into anonymity. Considering he was an Ander who sounded like a Ferelden and dressed like a Tevinter, it was not such a smooth transition. People would mistake him for a Magister prior to noticing his height, fair skin and pale hair. When he'd speak, they'd be flabbergasted over his mastery of the King's Tongue and the sheer lack of accent. He was an anomaly, and Anders was not so keen on explaining why he was the way he was. His appearance wasn't the only thing that garnered attention.

It wasn't long before Anders had found himself longing to do something for the needy people of the city. With limited funds, he couldn't blanket them in wealth. But, he was born with natural talents that could help. He started small, healing minor scrapes and cuts with salves he had made from the local plants he managed to salvage. People came to him, and yet they were sick, sicker than he could cure with poultices and mixtures that he concocted in his spare time. Against better judgement, Anders healed them with his magic. To his surprise, the people, as well as being grateful, revered him as a sort of saint. They kept his secret in exchange for his healing. Asking for payment from people who couldn't even buy bread was wrong.

In a way, this filled him with a sense of pride. Seeing the happiness spelled out on the faces of the refugees when he would deny their meager offers of payment made Anders feel like he was doing good. He was respected, but better than that, he was Darktown's best kept secret.

On one afternoon, Anders was up to his elbows in refugees. Many of them suffered minor injuries. Occupational hazards, mostly. He expected to be engaged in routine work until a man—probably mid-thirties—came charging in with a young boy cradled in his arms. Blood was gushing down the child's head from a large gash near his hairline. He was unconscious. Quickly, Anders cleared off the nearest table by sweeping his arm across it. His belongings scattered across the ground. Little heed was paid to them as the boy was lowered down onto the table by his frantic father.

"What happened to him?" Asked Anders as he pulled a cloth from his coat and used it to mop up the lingering blood from the boy's forehead. Thoughts of his rendezvous with Karl later filtered to the front of his mind, causing him to stop momentarily to stem himself.

His father looked to be on the brink of tears, but somehow managed to remain composed despite the injury his son had suffered. "He…uh…he was playing on some steps and slipped. He cracked his head on the bottom and we cannot wake him."

"I'll see what I can do."

Anders got to work instantly. He concentrated deeply, feeling the magic that circulated through his veins as the mage demanded it into his hands from sheer force of will alone. A tingling sensation accompanied this, causing his hands to glow in a familiar greenish-blue hue. From the corner of his eye, he could see as the boy's father joined his side, watching with interest as he coursed his hands mere inches above the injury.

Moments in, the wound started to close. Anders said nothing, but such healing required intense amounts of his energy. The boy did not stir, but progress _was_ being made. So, he continued, ignoring the fatigue setting in. Another was not about to die in front of him.

Just as the boy's eyelids began to flutter, a woman came rushing in. Anders didn't take his eyes from his patient, but from what he could see through his peripheral, this woman frequently came. She was older, or maybe just prematurely gray. She had been nice enough to him, but for the life of him, he could not recall her name.

She sucked in several desperate breaths, at the same time trying to form words that just didn't make sense. No doubt, she had run here from quite a distance. This worried Anders. If she had ran all the way to his clinic, there was something dire that she wished to warn him about. What little money he had was on either Templars wishing to render him Tranquil, or Wardens. Considering the contact he'd been maintaining with Karl, he would guess Templars.

"There…there were some…people asking about you…at Lirene's." The woman was still out of breath.

Anders' palms grew suddenly clammy as his focus faltered. His fears were being realized. "What did they look like?"

"Uh…two pretty women. One had red hair and the other had dark hair. A blonde human man and a dwarf."

A breath hitched in Anders' throat when he heard that description. Vaguely, it matched the descriptions of the Wardens he served with. Maybe he was paranoid, but even the most basic of likenesses was enough for him to consider ditching the injured child to seek shelter elsewhere. That was when a thought surged through his mind, one that demanded that he stay and face the consequences of him abandoning his post. It wasn't to own up to his prior mistakes, but for the sake of the boy.

Minutes later, Anders was sure he had met his fate. Since the woman's entrance, the healer had resumed healing the boy, but with optimistic results. It started small, with twitching fingers and eyes desperately trying to open against the pull of sleep. Anders himself was on the brink of collapse. Healing this child was proving more difficult than he previously anticipated. Justice was breaking his resolve, threatening to break through at any second.

Miraculously, the boy came through as Justice managed to claim a few precious seconds of control over his host. Seconds felt like hours of limbo. Anders used what willpower he had to push against his passenger, but in those seconds, he saw the intruders the woman had mentioned.

Once control was regained, Anders went for his staff without even asking them why they had come, nor confirming who they truly were. Once the weapon was in his clutches, he swung around, left palm outstretched with the promise of a devastating offensive spell. His posture was rigid, threatening. The mage didn't care if this was Lyna who had come; he would fight her for the sake of his freedom from the Wardens.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing!" He boomed threateningly.

But, it wasn't his Commander waiting just beyond the table.

Two women, a human man, and a dwarf _did_ stand before him, but he didn't know any of them. The setup he was presented with reminded him of a joke he once heard. Anders noticed the dwarf first, purely because he lacked a beard. The mage hadn't known many dwarves in his time, but he was sure they were generally known for their big, bushy beards. The mage resisted the urge to snort in humor when he noticed the sheer amount of chest hair that the dwarf had and considered that maybe his beard fell off of his face and landed there.

He was drawn to the dark haired woman and the man next, mainly because of their staves. Anders mentally slapped himself in the forehead, reaching the completely just conclusion that they were mages. And, being mages had to be the most foolish sort for walking around a city that was teeming with Templars with nearly a sign strapped to their backs. Other than that, he thought that there was a resemblance there, one that they shared with the red haired woman. They were family.

It was the woman with the red hair that worried him the most. She looked at him like a predator on the hunt, but not in the overtly sexual manner that he used to use on women he was interested in bedding. This one wanted _something_ , what, he was unsure. Otherwise, he found her rather pretty, an unfortunate thought given the circumstances. Justice was quick to remind him of this.

"It isn't polite to whip your staff out before at _least_ offering to pay for a girl's drink." Chided the red haired woman with a note of humor in her tone.

Anders wasn't laughing.

His grip on the staff tightened, a silent threat he posed to her. She remained, unwaveringly, merely a handful of steps before him. Luckily, her hands remained off of the hilts of those daggers she had affixed to her person. "Have you come to drag me back to the Wardens?" Spat the man with an accusatory look. "Tell them that I'm not going back. They made me give up my cat."

"Wait one second." Interjected the human man. "You had a _cat_ , in the Wardens? Are Wardens even allowed pets?"

Anders' brows knit together, probably because he took the man's words as an attack on Ser Pounce A Lot. His fondness for the cat outweighed his desire to stay in one piece. "He was a _gift_. A noble beast." The mage recalled the day when Lyna told him that he could keep Pounce. It had been raining and her faithful Mabari had found the kit, nearly on the brink of starvation. "He scratched a Genlock on the nose once. Drew blood, too."

"Listen." The woman with the red hair took a step forward, causing Anders to defensively take a step back. She raised her empty palms, a sign that she was neither armed, not planning to become so. He relaxed a little. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Claudia. These are my siblings, Quentin and Bethany, and our friend Varric."

"Anders." As wary as he was, Anders _did_ have to admit that things had risen to an unnecessary point, and rather quickly. For all he knew, they were just some people looking for someone to heal their sick mother.

"Anders." The woman—Claudia—rolled his moniker over her tongue carefully. He could tell she was considering its meaning deeply. "Is that a title referencing your country of origin, or your actual name?"

Ignoring her question, Anders returned his staff to the pillar he had drawn it from in the first place. If things got messy, he could still cast without it. "Is that why you came here?" Asked the man, harboring some amount of ire in his voice. "To question people's names?"

"Well, no." Frustration was spelled out on her face. Not wanting to push his luck further, the mage decided against potentially upsetting her any longer. "I was told that you have maps. Of the Deep Roads, precisely. If it at all possible, I would like to get them from you."

There it was.

In his life, Anders had come to expect that when a woman came to him, she ultimately wanted something. Granted, he had no idea why a woman—no less a woman who didn't trigger his Warden senses—was inquiring about his maps. Even so, he wasn't about to forfeit them to a complete stranger, not after he went through all of the trouble of stealing them in the first place.

"What business does a woman who is clearly not a Warden have with Warden maps?"

"Varric's brother, Bartrand, is planning an expedition into the Deep Roads and I am hoping to be part of it. Warden maps that contain the location of various entrances into the Deep Roads would be greatly beneficial to my cause."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Who in their right mind would desire to go into the Deep Roads? Do you not know how foul of a place it is?"

"I have an idea." Claudia's response came without missing a single beat. "Of course, we would _pay_ you for your maps."

"If I had been wanting for coin, then I would re-evaluate what I do here." Said Anders sarcastically, ready to shoo them from the clinic entirely.

Then, a thought struck him. He had asked Karl to rendezvous with him that night at the Chantry. Anders would have been lying if he didn't believe that the Templars had intercepted his letter and were planning a trap for him. After all, he was a _known_ apostate, one who only walked free because Lyna hadn't gotten around to confirming that he had run from the Wardens just yet. The people before him, they seemed a competent bunch, ones who could take down a few people. And, he _would_ be willing to give up his maps, maps that he had only taken out of spite, if they helped him to free his friend.

"On second thought, a favor for a favor. That's fair, right?"

Claudia shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you want." Her sister—Bethany—shot her a look of confusion. Probably due to the fact that she agreed before even hearing his terms.

Anders was in the same boat as Bethany. "You would agree before even hearing what I ask? What if I asked for…for Knight-Commander Meredith's head on a pike?"

"I'd say 'give me a couple days' and return before the week's end with your trophy."

Anders, taken aback by the response he received, looked the woman dead in the eye. She wasn't kidding. He could see the seriousness she carried. The mage was unsure if this made him trust her, or fear for his own safety.

"I have a friend in the Gallows. We've been exchanging letters for several months, but he abruptly stopped recently. I sent him another, not too long ago, requesting his presence at the Chantry; I was planning on aiding in his escape."

"And you believe that Templars will be waiting for you, opposed to your friend?"

"Yes. And I am but one man. I am asking that the four of you join me tonight, just in case Karl is not waiting."

There was a brief moment when Claudia looked to her companions, asking them what they thought of this. Her siblings quickly responded with resolute nods of their heads. Varric gave his own stamp of approval as well, though his was far less animated.

"You have convinced me. What is the plan?"

Anders released a breath that he hadn't been aware he had been holding. "Thank you. Meet me at the Chantry after dark. We will talk more then. If all goes well, we will all walk away free men and women."


	12. Chapter 12

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

It was after dusk when the four of them were finally able to leave for Hightown. Claudia had been anxious to leave as soon as the sun began setting. She didn't quite know why, but up until that point, she had been telling herself that it was because of the possibility of showing some Templars a thing or two. While not a mage herself, the woman had lived the life of an apostate due to her ties to her family. Claudia wasn't upset about that. She didn't blame her father or siblings for the constant relocation, or having to censor her speech in public settings. It was the only life she knew.

Perhaps it really was more worry than excitement.

It was one thing for her and Varric to go and help some peculiar mage. The risk that it entailed was fairly small. If she lost her life, it was her own damn fault and she was the only one who had to pay for it. However, with Bethany and Quentin there, things were different. A Templar would cut her down without second thought. But, her siblings, they would most likely be clapped in irons and dragged off to the Gallows to live a life in imprisonment. Claudia couldn't allow that.

They couldn't leave until Leandra went to bed, much to all of their dismay. Quentin was way too excited for words. Claudia couldn't fathom why, nor did she desire to ask. When their mother finally retired for the night, the three left.

Varric was waiting in a gangway to the side of the Hanged Man for them. He had his trusty crossbow slung over his shoulder. The dwarf wore a crooked grin as they set off towards Hightown. Claudia didn't think to ask why.

The four had only just started ascending the grand stairs that led into Hightown when Varric looked to them. "So, what do you think of...whatshisname...Blondie? Do you think he was being truthful with us earlier?"

"Blondie?" Questioned Bethany.

Varric shrugged apathetically. "Blondie is easier to remember than...whatever it was."

"Anders." Interjected Quentin, who was leading the four of them towards the Chantry. The bounce in his step was unmistakable. "If things go well, I'm sort of interested in picking his brain for what he knows about magic." There was a hopefulness in his voice as he spoke. Claudia figured that it was because they had never met a mage outside of the family before. Or, if they had, they never knew about it. It wasn't like there was some secret apostate fraternity that met once a week, so Quentin's excitement was just.

"He sort of reminded me of Father." Bethany's response was thoughtful and forlorn in nature. She scratched at her cheek absently as she thought of how to explain what she meant. "He seems like a kind man, like Father was."

Claudia snorted. It wasn't that their father lacked compassion, but he certainly was a different sort of parent with her than he was with Bethany and Quentin. This was understandable, considering he had to teach her siblings how to control and conceal their magic, so he spent much more time with them.

"Maybe he was like that with _you_. With me, it was 'I locked you out of the house so you can practice lockpicking. Have fun'!"

Varric looked at her quizzically. "Did that really happen?"

"Yes." Stated Claudia simply. "The first time he did it, I punched a window in and climbed through. On top of the cuts that the glass left, I got quite the earful from my mother for being a brute." With a flourish of the wrist, the woman presented the dwarf with her right hand. "I still have the scars, if you'd like me to remove my glove to show you."

Varric shook his head, rejecting the invitation.

"Anyway," Continued the woman, "I thought he was kind of cute. You know, in a scrappy 'I live in the sewers' sort of way. As to whether or not he was being honest: I don't give shit as long as I get those maps."

The dwarf looked on Claudia, not sure how to respond to what she had said. At least, that was what she assumed was going through his head. Quentin grunted from only half a pace behind her and grumbled something along the lines of 'you _would_ think he was cute', which the woman chose to ignore. He always had a smart remark whenever she appeared to find a man attractive.

"The Chantry is right up here." Announced Bethany, effectively cutting off any rebuttal her older sister might have prepared to stifle any of Quentin's following snide remarks. Speeding up, the brunette took the lead, ascending a flight of stairs that nearly surrounded the Chantry request board that went ignored by the others. "Follow me."

Claudia hadn't ever stepped foot in the Chantry in Kirkwall. She had no business there, nor saw fit to take up religion at this stage in her life. Leandra, much to her dismay, had invited her to service on more than one occasion. Usually after Claudia had just risen with a nasty hangover and wanted nothing more than to swallow the souls of her enemies. Whenever Leandra would go on about it, Claudia would respond with grabbing her pillow off of the mat below her, securing it to the top of her head, and groaning so loudly that Gamlen would shout at her from the other room to be quiet. That, and with Templars cycling in and out of the place of worship, she feared, if not for her own sake, then the sake of her siblings, to be spotted.

Anders was waiting at the top of the steps, poorly concealed by the lingering shadows that the light of the moon cast onto the building. He was wringing his hands together whilst anxiously pacing about, flooding the area with a palpable sense of dread. Claudia could almost smell the fear on him. Or, maybe that was the lingering stench of waste.

When he noticed their approach, the man ceased his pacing and approached them. Relief washed over him, causing the muscles of his face to relax and display a more calm countenance beneath. He sighed out heavily as his chocolate eyes danced over each of them, deciding whether or not they all looked fit and able to take on the task he had appointed to them.

"Good. I almost thought you wouldn't come. I asked him to meet me inside. This way."

The heavy doors leading into the Chantry groaned like a giant roused from his slumber when Anders applied his weight to them in order to grant them passage inside. This caused Claudia to pause and check to see if anyone had heard their entry. Not even a mouse stirred, so she proceeded.

Kirkwall's chantry was much more ornate than the ones back in Ferelden. The building was entirely sculpted of stone, as if the very structure itself were a statue to be admired. Luxurious crimson tapestries hung from the walls like fine silks on a beautiful woman. The rogue resisted the growing urge to touch them. Candles made their homes on willowy stands. Many of which were lit, despite the late hour. Claudia found this strange.

Stranger still was the lack of any person to greet them as they entered.

Claudia would have assumed that _someone_ would have been posted either outside or inside to stand guard. There were many things there that looked worthy of stealing. Many of these things even caused Claudia's inner kleptomaniac to beg her to pocket a few valuables while no one was looking. No cloister brother wandered the building in this late hour in search of a privy, and no sister to tend diligently to the candles dotting every surface. Not even a solitary Andrastian wishing to get their prayers in before heading home for the night.

She looked to Quentin, who followed behind Anders, seemingly having not noticed what she had. The woman made a gesture, just enough to divert her brother's attention. When she managed to persuade him to look her way, she gave him a look and several more complicated gestures. It was her warning to him to keep an eye on the shadows for something wasn't right. Quentin, luckily, understood her meaning and responded with a single nod. He fell back in line, resigning to silence as Anders beckoned them to follow him up some stairs to the living quarters.

A man was waiting up the stairs when they finally managed to finish their climb. He dedicated his attention to the flames roaring in the fireplace, having not noticed the five enter. Already, Claudia had him pegged for a mage and Anders' friend. This man wore robes, something that she hadn't seen anyone else wear. His dark hair was cropped short and beginning to gray around the temples.

"Karl!" Enthusiastically remarked Anders, breaking off from the four to get a better look at his friend.

"Anders, I knew you too well. I knew that you would never give up."

Anders appeared confused, almost hurt. There was something in his voice, a cool monotone that people didn't typically use. "Why are you talking like—"

Karl turned to face them, sporting a face devoid of any emotion. He was pale, save the freshly burned Chantry sunburst in his forehead. Claudia needed no one to tell her that this man had been made Tranquil. At her side, Bethany gasped in shock, using her hand to conceal her mouth as she fell back a step. Quentin tensed, his grip on his staff tightening as he set his jaw in a hard line.

"I was rebellious like you. The Templars knew I had to be...made an example of."

"No!" Anders' voice quivered from a mixture of sadness and fear. His eyes were fixated on that garish sunburst, his worst fear realized. For a moment, his mouth fumbled with words that were unable to come out from the shock and terror he faced.

Claudia's own suspicions began to ring true. Templars crawled out from seemingly every shadow, each brandishing very deadly weapons. The four backed up into Anders, who was frozen in place from shock. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Instinctively, Claudia grabbed for her daggers.

"How else will mages ever master themselves?" Responded Karl in monotone. "You will understand, Anders, as soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself." Karl pointed an accusatory finger at Anders as the Templars drew even closer. "This is the apostate."

"No!" Howled Anders, his voice morphing into something on longer human as he collapsed to his knees. Vivid blue light spilled out of him from cracks that formed in his skin. He clutched his head, trying to fight this transformation he was going to, but was unsuccessful. Seconds later, he thundered to his feet, the same blue light pouring from his eyes. Whatever he was, it was now far from human, and it was looking to exact its revenge against the Templars.

Anders' transformation bought Claudia a window enough to slip out of the circle of Templars. Hastily, she reached into her pouch and pulled out a small acid flask and threw it towards several Templars still attempting to apprehend her siblings. As the glass shattered against the stone flooring and the men inhaled the miasma, they instantly became confused. This gave everyone else chance enough to escape as well.

Upon his escape, Quentin found a relatively safe location to cast from. He worked a fireball in his hands, managing to grow it to considerable size before launching it at several Templars who had set their sights on him anew. This spell didn't kill any of them, but it did set the hems of their robes on fire, resulting in them scrambling about in an attempt to extinguish the flames.

Varric took to the shadows almost as quickly as Claudia. The only sign of his presence was the menagerie of arrows that would fire out from his swiftly-changing location. He was aiming to kill, each arrow striking a vital place when they would find their target.

Bethany, unlike the others, hadn't been so lucky in her escape. She hadn't managed but five steps before she found herself with her back pressed into the banister, a very large man with a sword intending on running her through. She attempted to weave a spell, but found her staff—and focus—knocked from her by the brunt end of the man's shield. Now defenseless, she had nothing to do.

Claudia, now locked in combat with two Templars, noticed Bethany just as her staff went skidding cross the floor. Color drained from her face as her sister took her last step back in order to put some space between her and the Templar. She _had_ to do something. As one of the Templars attempted to run her through on his sword, using her distraction as a tool, she grabbed for the one behind her and used him as a meat shield. The blade sunk in with a disturbing squish and a trickle of blood. Her 'shield' sank of the sword, and while the first Templar stood there, distressed, she rammed her daggers into his gut and made a quick beeline to her sister, leaving her previous target to bleed out.

The rogue pounced on the Templar who had her sister cornered before her had a chance to split her skull on the dull half of his sword. The pair tumbled to the ground, Claudia sliding to a halt just before she went flying down the stairs, and the Templar, not far from her. There was a panic as she searched in vain for her fallen dagger, not finding it in time. Still, she rose to her feet with the one she had, finding that the Templar had already armed himself and had pegged her as his new target. He swiped right with his sword, so Claudia feinted left. Her footing, due to the stairs, was shaky and not wide enough, so she took the sword to her right-hand side. The woman howled in agony, feeling a sear of pain shoot up through her body. He readied his sword again, this time, intending on killing her. Time slowed to a crawl as the blade inched closer to its target. Claudia was paralyzed in pain. She gripped her side desperately, trying to stop the blood flow, but it just continued to flow out.

Inches before the sword made contact, the Templar glowed in a wild purple and collapsed in a twitching mess of limbs on the floor. What was formerly Anders stood, palm stretched out, at its target. He approached, bladed end of his staff raised high before he brought it down and decapitated the Templar with it in one fell swoop. The head rolled away a couple of feet, propelled by the stream of blood that erupted from the stump that was once his neck.

The blue that had encompassed Anders before faded. He was now back to normal, if incredibly fatigued. Karl, who was stained with blood and gore from their battle, looked completely bewildered, not the husk of a man he was previously.

"Anders?" Questioned the mage, reaching up to rub his eyes in shock. "What was that? It is like a piece of the Fade lives on within you!"

"Yes, what _was_ that, exactly?" Asked Quentin. Despite the blood that stained his clothes, he was no worse for wear. "Not the Fade bit. The 'angry glowing' bit."

Anders rubbed his cheek, perhaps looking for a way to escape this line of questioning. "We lack the time for me to answer that properly." He said, embarrassed.

"Well, whatever it was, it allowed me freedom from my Tranquility, if only a moment." Karl seemed panicked, not that Claudia could really tell. She was starting to feel light-headed and weak. Though, she was doing her best to remain strong.

"You haven't any idea what it is like, to live without any of the color, or music, or _beauty_ of this world. Please, Anders, do me one thing before that returns."

"Anything."

"Kill me. Kill me as I am now. Kill me while I can still remember. I would rather die a mage than live as a Templar puppet."

Anders hesitated, despite the request he had offered Karl. If ever he had appeared to have faced many hardships and a sea of sorrows, it was in that moment. His expressive gaze looked on his friend, pleading him for another option. Everyone knew that he wouldn't find one. Desperately, he looked to the others, perhaps hoping to find some cure for Tranquility in their faces that he hadn't heard about before.

"I hear that...that being made Tranquil is a...a fate worse than death." Stammered Claudia. Her grip on her side tightened in a pathetic attempt to push the blood steeping out back into her body. It was now staining her hands and dripping slowly down her leathers.

"I would choose death as well." Agreed Bethany.

With a solemn nod, Anders produced a small knife from his belt. He was on the verge of tears as his steps that brought him towards Karl echoed through the empty halls. Karl gave him a look of gratefulness as the blade pushed against his abdomen. However, Anders faltered.

"Do it now." Pleaded Karl. "Do it now while—Why are you looking at me like that?"

As his friend's voice slipped back into the Tranquil monotone, Anders pressed the blade in. Karl grunted in agony, his body slumping slowly out of the deathly embrace Anders had him in. He sucked in several shallow breaths before His eyes then glassed over and he lived no more.

Anders turned away, putting Karl's dead body behind him. He bitterly clutched the knife still in his hand, Karl's blood staining the appendage to the wrist. "Let's go." He said, devoid of feeling. "Before anyone catches us here."

Claudia had hoped that the fresh air would cure her of the dizziness, but somehow, it only made matters worse. She had suffered injuries before, and usually bandaged them herself, slept it off, and felt better for it in the morning. Tonight, she was hoping for similar results, but such a fantasy seemed so far off. The four were already halfway descended down the stairs when she finally lumbered over to the first one, desperately clutching onto the walls that surrounded the staircase for support. Prior to leaving, she had, fortunately, collected her daggers, but that was it. On a typical night, she would have looted the bodies for coin. Currently, she only wanted sleep.

She braved putting her foot down on the top stair. Her knee buckled as she did so, causing her to lose her balance and collapse. The wound in her side surged with pain angrily, as if to punish her for the bold attempt.

"Stop looting bodies and _come on,_ Claudia!" Cursed Quentin, nearing the bottom of the steps. He didn't bother to look behind himself to see his sister in such a pathetic state.

Bethany, however, did. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes growing wide as she saw Claudia, barely holding onto consciousness while sitting in a steadily growing puddle of her own blood.

"Makers tears! Clauda!" Bethany flew up the steps, landing with a soft thud at her older sister's side and cupping her hand gently for support. "What happened?"

Claudia smiled cheekily, pretending as if she was fine. She didn't want Bethany to worry. "Oh, you know...taking a little—" The red head hissed as her wound throbbed, "—breather. Get me some whiskey and my...my bed and I'll be fine."

"Don't joke." Scolded Bethany. The younger woman began inspecting her sister rigorously in search of the wound. By that point, the three men were present, now wearing concerned expressions as Bethany poked and prodded at her sister carefully. When she grazed the wound, Claudia cursed so loud that even the Maker in the Fade would hear her, prompting Quentin to hold a finger to his mouth and lightly shush her.

"It looks pretty bad." Lamented Bethany, gazing sadly at the others. "And, it is my fault. If she hadn't saved me from that Templar, she wouldn't be lying in a puddle of her own blood."

"I've lain in worse." Quipped Claudia, receiving an irate look from her younger sister.

"We need to move her before more Templars come and see what we did in there." Anders said. Before anyone had a chance to argue, he was already working at slipping Claudia's arm over his shoulder so he could help her get down the steps and to a safer location. "We'll take her into a nearby alley and I'll look at her there. Quentin, was it? Give me a hand."

It took twice as long as normal to get Claudia down the stairs. She was basically dead weight to them. But luckily, she was still conscious. Bethany constantly checked on her. Eventually, she removed the bandana from around her neck and pressed it firmly into her sister's right side in order to absorb as much of the blood as possible.

They managed to hobble most of the way towards an alleyway when their path was cut off. An armored soldier stood before them, blocking the path into their temporary sanctum. Claudia rolled her head up, attempting to see the solider in question. Despite her hazy state, she recognized the uniform as Kirkwall's guard. Perhaps they could exploit their friendship with the soon-to-be captain to warrant their freedom from questioning.

Except, it _was_ Aveline.

"What happened here?" Asked the guardswoman, her voice an entwining combination of concern and frustration.

"Got a sword to the belly." Humored Claudia, barely holding on.

"Not now, Hawke." Aveline needed no convincing. She helped the men secure Claudia against a wall. Easily, the injured red head slumped into a seated position, leaving a faint streak of blood behind her. Aveline remained standing with Varric and Quentin. Only Bethany and Anders crouched down with her.

"I'll have to remove your leathers to get a better look at it and heal it." Said Anders. He was more or less asking her if it was okay that he did so without downright asking a question.

"My! You work quick." Claudia tried to grace them with a girlish giggle, but it came out more as a dry heave. She ignored it and continued. "Do you ask every girl you've only...only just met to get naked?" Death was knocking on her door. It grew louder with every passing second. As such, she saw no harm in having a little fun while she was still with them.

"Shut it, Claudia." Moaned Aveline.

"Oh, calm down, Aveline." Quentin pushed aside her complaints with a flourish of the wrist. "She's got a foot in the grave right now. If flirting with someone keeps her with us, let her."

"You're surprisingly calm for someone whose sister might not make it through the night."

Anders had since began stripping Claudia of her leathers, correctly assuming that her flirtatious remarks were her way of granting him permission to get a better look at the wound. Bethany collected each piece as they were discarded. Soon, Claudia was left in little more than her bloodied tunic and her small clothes. She was in too much pain to comment on it, though.

"Me?" Asked Quentin. "I'm scared shitless. I'm just not going to be an asshole to my sister when this may be the last time I see her. No offense, Claudia."

"None taken." Muttered the woman.

Cautiously, Anders lifted up the hem of Claudia's tunic, exposing her up to her mid-abdomen. This gave him a clear look at the wound, and Claudia, her first look at it. All and all, it was less dire than she thought, but still fairly serious. The skin around it had turned pink and swollen, her body's way of preventing any more blood flow. And, it seemed to be effective. The bleeding had slowed to a slight trickle. This sight caused Anders' concern-etched face to relax considerably.

"She'll be fine with a bit of healing and some rest." Promised the mage. Without another word, his hands took on a bluish glow and began to course over the wound.

Claudia, however, was still confused. Particularly, when his hands took on the color they did. She was reminded of back in the Chantry, when his whole demeanor changed and he began slaughtering the Templars with a lack of mercy that she had never seen. Claudia wanted answers, and she was going to get them. "Care to explain what happened back in the Chantry?"

Anders paused. Her wound was already beginning to show signs of progress, but this request had halted his continuing healing momentarily. When he came to, the man resumed his healing. This line of questioning had struck an obvious chord. "Uh...this is hard to explain. When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."

Claudia's brows knit together, trying to process his words in a nonjudgmental fashion. Having not been born with the same abilities that her siblings had, their father afforded Claudia not the lessons that he gave them. What she knew of the Fade and the spirits that called that realm home, it was secondhand knowledge from her brother and sister. At least it was keeping her mind off of Anders' hands coursing over her tender injury."And that's...different from a demon?"

The man nodded once as his eyes flickered from his work to meet hers briefly. "Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude...justice. They are the Maker's first children. And, they have all but given up on us."

Nodding as well, Claudia thought that she understood. Granted, there was a pain in her side that made her want to kick the one person trying to fix it into the the wall behind him and the volume of blood she lost left her feeling a bit tipsy. "I suppose this would be a good sort of friend to have."

"I thought so at first as well. To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him. We were going to work together, to bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his motherto be sent to the Circle. But...I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me—"

"—I apologize." Lamented Claudia. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

"You couldn't have known." Suggested Bethany, offering up a hand for her sister to squeeze. She probably figured that Claudia was mere seconds from putting her boot through the healer's face. If she had assumed so, she would have been correct. "You did what you believed was right."

"I envy your innocence." Sighed Anders. His hands shorted out, the magic ceasing entirely. His face was pale, with a fine sheen of perspiration accumulating on his skin. He was drained. Before declaring his work complete, he inspected the wound with gentle hands. There was still a gash, once sizable enough that it could cause some pain and discomfort if not properly treated. But, from his expression, he had no more magic to tap into and would need to give it a second go after some rest. So, he pulled some bandages from his pack and begun winding them around her midsection to at least keep it dressed and safe from infection.

"I thought I was helping my friend. He would have...died, I guess. If that even means anything. And, he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered. I wanted to do well by Justice. I really did—but, my anger—when I see Templars now, thing that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about, he comes out. And, he is no longer my friend, Justice. He is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."

Claudia didn't know if it was the blood loss that did it, or talk of vengeful Fade spirits possessing the bodies of moderately attractive men, but something about this situation had her incredibly turned on. With his hands lacing tender flirtations along parts of her body that hadn't seen a man's touch in a couple of years, it was no wonder that she hadn't jumped him then and there. Of course, she was also fairly delirious.

"So," She purred, ignoring what remained of a verbal censor that she still possessed, "that explains your whole 'sexy tortured' look."

"Claudia!" Howled Bethany, mortified. She smacked the fleshy part of her sister's upper arm as punishment.

Anders blinked in an attempt to process what had been said. He didn't push her away, nor tell her no outright, so Claudia took it as a good sign. In fact, his left brow slowly raised, denoting a look of possible interest in her. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often. I had never thought to find a woman who would look past what I just said."

With a simple toothy grin, Claudia channeled the wolf she had previously embodied with her carnivorous words. "Then aren't you fortunate that I stormed into your clinic earlier?"

With the wound healed somewhat and dressed, Anders and Bethany helped Claudia back into her leathers. It was a slow process, like an uphill climb in a rain storm. Claudia was stiff, and still very much in pain. As such, the pair of mages had to be careful where they touched, lest they receive her fist in their mouths. But, despite the hardships, Claudia remained well behaved and struck no one. She even managed to rise to her feet, given the diligent watch of her sister.

"Come by my clinic tomorrow." Offered Anders, eyes locking on to Claudia's briefly. "I will finish healing you after some rest. You can pick up the maps then, as well. And, should you need me, I will be there." The mage looked to Quentin and Aveline, the latter looking rather upset with the situation she had inadvertently found herself in. "I trust that you will get her home safely?"

Quentin nodded. "Not a problem. We live together."

"Can we stop for a drink, first?" Bemoaned Claudia. She was trying her absolute best to appear pathetic. A little something alcoholic would help her get to sleep that night.

"No." Barked Aveline, grabbing the rogue roughly in an act to be used as a makeshift crutch.

"Come on, Blondie." Invited Varric. "I'll buy you a drink at the Hanged Man before you crawl back into Darktown for the night."

For the duration of the trip home, Claudia would whine at sporadic intervals about needing something mind-altering just to get to a state of normal. At first, Bethany would gently coo, reminding her that she lost a lot of blood and that sleep would be her best remedy. However, as she continued, growing louder and more vocal about it, Aveline picked up the pace. This resulted in Claudia being practically dragged behind her, to which the rogue substituted her complaints about wanting alcohol with complaints about how cruel the guardswoman was. Yet, as soon as her body hit that bed mat back at Gamlen's house, Claudia was out.


	13. Chapter 13

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

"Wake up, bitch face."

Quentin's shrill voice was just as effective as any rooster that cawed at the first break of morning. Claudia was still very much encompassed in a dreamless sleep prior to her brother deciding that it was time to rise. She had a foggy recollection of the night before. The pain in her side was due to that, the woman knew this. However, she felt as though whenever she would think back to what happened, it was if as if she was looking through frosted over glass.

Quentin chorused on again, enunciating his new favored nickname for her with expert precision as a means to press as many buttons as possible. Claudia groaned and swiped the pillow from under her head. It landed with a soft _thud_ into the bed mat. She ignored this and proceeded to set the pillow over her head to shield herself from further demands from the man currently attempting to yank the covers from her body.

He was mostly successful, too. Claudia didn't fight. Instead, when her warmth and comfort was robbed from her, the woman curled up into a fetal position and groaned louder. The blanket wrapped around her right foot, tangling up both she and Quentin in the process. Claudia ignored it and tried to claim a few minutes longer of precious sleep.

"Come on, Claudia!" Demanded Quentin. He had circled her and latched onto one ankle with both hands, intending on yanking her out of bed entirely. Claudia's protest was limited to scratching at the mat animatedly like a cat facing the same tragic situation.

"You're an asshole." Grumbled the woman, finally resigning to sitting up on the stone floor beneath her.

Quentin placed a hand on his hip. His face was slightly pink from exertion, but otherwise, he looked his usual self. "We need to _go._ Bethany managed to convince Mother to go look at the merchants' stalls so we could slip out and get you patched up."

"What are you talking about?" Claudia rubbed the side of her face with her palm. She remembered something about needing some healing. If she hadn't, she would have requested it due to the aching in her abdomen.

"You don't remember?" Quentin looked on her quizzically before setting off to the chest against the door to see if she had a clean spare tunic and to collect her leathers. "Andraste's tit's, Claudia. You just _have_ to make things difficult, don't you?"

Claudia worked at making something presentable of the tangled bird's nest she called her hair. She coursed through it with her fingers, working out each kink and knot as she went along. "I remember some it it. Like the angry, glowing mage being all 'argh' and 'roar'." She paused. "That _did_ happen, right? I didn't just make that up?"

Quentin returned, carrying an off-white tunic with some faint stains—probably blood—and her leathers. Without needing to be asked, the man knelt down and began helping his sister to get undressed from her sullied one and clothed once more in the fresh garments. "That happened. Though, your sound effects leave something to be desired."

"Everyone's a critic."

"We need to hurry. Your _boyfriend_ is waiting for us. And, I'm sure that you don't want mother to see you like this." Quentin gestured towards the bandages. "She'll have a coronary. And, she would probably blame me."

"What boyfriend?" Questioned Claudia. She was mortified, especially since she hadn't been courted—at least properly—in well over three years. Quentin accidentally grazed a spot that was still very much raw and tender from the night before, resulting in a pain surging up from the point of contact, up through her core. Claudia clenched a fist and gritted her teeth. "Son of a bitch, Quentin!" She cursed, loud enough for their neighbors to hear, no doubt. "Tell me or I'll...I'll knock all your teeth out!"

"You wouldn't." The man sounded confident in his claim, and with good reason. Her threats usually were the hollow sort. He silently finished dressing his sister, this time, more careful to avoid the wound in question. Occasionally, he'd glance up and give her a wry grin as a sort of insult. When she was completely dressed, the man rubbed the fine stubble of his chin and looked her dead in the eye. "You really don't remember?"

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" Spat Claudia.

"Well, I guess that's well enough. You were laying it on _pretty_ thick. But, just so you don't kick me all the way to the Imperium, you were giving our new friend bedroom eyes the whole time he was healing you last night."

"Was not." Claudia chewed on the inside of her cheek, knowing full well that she had no proof to back up her claim.

"You were saying things like 'I like your sexy tortured look' and other cheesy things like that. I don't really remember."

Claudia stuck out her bottom lip in a sort of pout while lumbering to her feet with all of the grace of a three-legged bear attempting to walk across a frozen pond. Quentin only observed mirthfully, which resulted in a stare that would impale him on the spot had it been deadly. Once she was up and facing no threats of spilling back onto her bed mat, her brother came towards her, lacing his arm around her shoulder for support, and headed out.

The walk to Darktown was a slow sort. Claudia, generally speaking, was in dour spirits and longed for nothing more than a bottle and her bed. Quentin, much to her dismay, reminded her that Anders would make it all better, that his magic would be more effective than an inebriated state, the effects of which were merely temporary and had some pretty nasty side effects. Each time he did, the woman would grumble to herself and hush up for a couple minutes. Just long enough to renew her dislike of this task and Quentin's jovial attitude towards her pathetic condition.

After half an hour, they finally arrived at the doors leading into the clinic. Anders was busy passing a man who looked suspiciously like the Seneshal a jar of some salve. He discreetly offered instructions on use, to which the man—who Claudia had decided _was_ in fact the Seneshal—nodded to and swiftly headed out while using his hand to conceal his face from prying eyes.

No longer occupied, the healer gestured towards a cot that littered the area. Many lined the clinic, almost like pews in a Chantry. A couple of ailing individuals sat on them, all of which appeared to be waiting for the effects of whatever Anders gave them to kick in.

Quentin plopped Claudia down gently onto one such cot. She sat up straight, for slouching agitated the wound, she found. Anders then knelt before her, face awash with concern as he pleaded wordlessly for permission to remove her armor. Still tired and rather crabby because of such, the young rogue nodded several times in affirmation. "It's fine." She said simply.

Anders got to work at helping remove her curiass. It was quick work, and once he was done, he discarded the leather armor onto the cot beside her. He rose the hem of her linen tunic just enough to reveal the bandaged wound, but not enough to expose her to anyone else present. The bandages appeared clean, which was a visible relief for all three of them. Her wound hadn't bled through.

"How do you feel today?" Asked the man kindly. Busily, he got to work removing the bandages.

"Like I ran head-first into a stone pillar. There's the obvious pain in my side, which I am sure I don't need to elaborate on." Groused Claudia. "I feel hung over. The sad part is, I hadn't a drop to drink last night."

"That is probably for the best." Assured Anders. "But, if you insist on drinking, I would suggest red wine. It's good for the blood."

Silence encompassed the both of them as Anders peeled back the last of the bandages and got a good look at what he couldn't complete the prior night. It was pink, and the skin was tender, but far less severe. In fact, it looked good, to the point where it would probably heal on its own in a couple weeks as long as it was kept cleaned and dressed. The mage thumbed the area around the wound, causing a bolt of pain to surge through Claudia at the point of contact. She jumped up defensively, ready to strike the man on reflex alone. In response, he fell back a foot and raised his hands in surrender.

"Sorry." He said apologetically.

"Be careful." Complained Claudia through gritted teeth.

Without another word exchanged, Anders got to work with healing the wound anew. It was an interesting process to watch. Under Anders' guidance and healing hands, the flesh got to work at mending itself. Small fibers would connect between either side, weaving together and creating stronger bits of flesh, and later, skin. Not even a scar was in sight. The wound virtually _disappeared_. Claudia had witnessed feats of healing magic before, but neither her father, Bethany, nor Quentin were quite as proficient as Anders. It took them a fair bit more effort to make any progress, and she doubted if they could heal wounds as large as what she was initially left with.

Once nothing was left, save a bit of skin stained pink from the blood she lost, Anders ran his fingers along her right side, testing his handiwork. No pain surfaced, causing Claudia to give Anders a nod of approval. He returned her leathers to her and backed away just far enough to give her enough space to clothe herself.

"I wanted to apologize." Stated the healer. "I got a bit weighty on you yesterday, and you probably didn't need that, given the circumstances." He looked to the space which her wound once occupied.

"That's what I'm here for." Mused Claudia, busy buckling up one of the straps that kept her leathers affixed to her chest. "To listen to peoples' problems and to stick my daggers into...well, other people for them."

"Be careful what you say." Advised Anders with a note of humor. "It's just, I thought that me, a willing host, a...a friend, would be better. I'm not sure if the choice I made is even the right one."

Anders looked defeated, which put a damper on Claudia's elevating mood. His eyes became hooded and drawn to his feet. She knew the feeling well, even if she wore it in her heart more so than on her face. And, what he did, it was for a genuinely good reason. Since she had never been in the situation herself, Claudia was unsure how she would choose to do things. Even so, she saw his perspective as well as the dilemma he faced because of it.

She rose to her feet, a little too quickly, perhaps. Her head went temporarily dizzy from the sudden change of altitude. Once stabilized, Claudia placed her hand to Anders' upper arm in a form of comfort. Quentin raised an eye, questioning the sudden shift from her previously surly demeanor. Anders, too, drew his eyes up from the ground in order to look at her, confused.

"We cannot know whether or not our choices are wise ones when we make them." Hummed Claudia in an attempt to bring solace to their new friend. In a way, she felt as if she was speaking to herself, giving a younger itteration of herself advice that she probably wouldn't follow. "All we can do is approach these situations with good intentions and a kind heart." After the words were said, Claudia mentally chastised herself for giving this man a speech that she would have most likely received from her mother as a youth.

Maker, she was getting old.

However, Anders did not respond in a way that she would have anticipated a teenaged Claudia to respond. He looked her in the eye, a flicker of a grin settling on his face for the first time. It was mischievous, sort of flirtatious in nature as he drew a confident step in, like he may have had the intention of kissing her. Claudia had nowhere to back up to in the event that this was what he was getting at. There was a small part of her that might have not minded so much. At least, that part would welcome the masculine attention she was receiving.

"Kind, wise, _and_ beautiful; you must have made a deal with some demons, yourself." Sang Anders. He refrained from touching her, though from the way his hands anxiously tugged at his coat, they were quite accustomed to doing just that when he would pour such words out to pretty girls.

Quentin heaved out a heavy, bordering disgusted sigh.

"I'm sorry!" Lamented Anders, drawing his attention down to his feet as his face flushed pink from embarrassment. He took a nervous step back, nearly tripping over a bit of rubble on the way. Claudia found it sort of cute. "It's just, we've only just met, but I feel like I know you. And now I've gone and made you uncomfortable."

Welcoming this sort of attention, as unexpected as it was, Claudia drew a step closer. She didn't know what Anders' intentions were, but she really didn't care. She knew where she stood on the issue, and that was that they were currently easing their way into a symbiotic friendship. Claudia wasn't the sort of girl to jump on the first man to tell her she was pretty. If she was, she'd be several times divorced and with five children by the point in life she was currently in. Even so, Anders was easy on the eyes for a sewer-dwelling mage (not that she knew any besides him). On top of that, he managed a smile for her, a feat that Lirene had warned her was impossible. This left her feeling accomplished.

"I made him smile." Hummed Claudia, mostly to herself.

"Shall I go fetch a Cloister Brother or Sister to perform the ceremony?"Joked Quentin, flatly.

"Shut it, Quentin!" Claudia swatted at her brother but missed because she was too focused on the healer. Returning to his statement about making her uncomfortable, she resumed, matching his same tone. "That doesn't mean I want you to stop."

Anders grinned wolfishly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Quentin sighed again. "I suppose that you will be evacuating the clinic presently to have some special 'grown-up' alone time with my sister, now."

This time, Claudia could reach him. She smacked him with the back of her hand, causing a sound so loud that several other patients looked up to see what the commotion was. Quentin rubbed his shoulder, mouthing 'ouch' several times, hoping to garner her sympathy and receive an apology. He was unsuccessful on both fronts.

Then, something shifted.

One moment, the man was purring sweet nothings into her ear, begging for her to be seduced by his flattery. Seconds later, he turned away in an attempt to put distance between them. Claudia didn't know what to make of the sudden change. All she knew was that she didn't like it.

"We can't do this." Anders bemoaned, retreating several steps, out of Claudia's reach. "I would only end up hurting you."

Claudia, to no surprise, took his words to have a sexual connotation. Anders was only playing hard to get, she told herself as she advanced a step, giving him her best look of seduction and accentuating the curves she was given through subtle movements. "Hurt me?" Asked the red head, playing off his change in demeanor as some big joke, or another attempt at flirtation. "I may like it."

"I'm not joking." Pleaded Anders, shooting Claudia a pained look. "A few months—a year ago, maybe, we could have had something."

The man retreated further, taking a seat on a crate covered in a fine sheet of dust. He rubbed his temples, having been agitated either my Claudia's persistence, or some unseen force. Anders didn't look up for an extended moment. He continued nursing his head, not once taking his eyes from the filth at his feet. It bothered Claudia that she couldn't understand what he was going through. With Quentin, she could usually pester his problems out into the forefront. In Bethany's case, the younger Hawke was just happy to have an ear to listen. Anders, however, he was intentionally keeping it bottled, and with no sign of letting it out any time soon.

"The wound is healed." Said Anders, breaking his silence and returning to a professional attitude seamlessly. "However, you did lose a lot of blood yesterday, so your body will still be weak. Get some rest, do your best to stay out of dangerous situations, and try to maintain a good diet for a couple of weeks." He stood and bowed his head ceremoniously at the both of them. "I must return to my other patients, now."


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter. I had a bit of writer's block with it and could only type a paragraph or two for most of last week.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Claudia was in a frenzy. She had been searching for nearly half an hour, and was growing increasingly frustrated when the one thing she had been searching for was the only thing not turning up. The whole house had practically been turned upside down. Various objects lay strewn across the floor, many being articles of clothing. They blanketed the dirty floor like a rug. The rogue had to navigate around them carefully when she was in such a panicked state; her mother would be mad if she tracked the dirt from the bottom of her shoes onto someone else's clothes.

But, she didn't really care what her mother thought at that junction.

It had been only she and Bethany in the house for quite some time. Quentin had vanished as soon as he woke, without so much of a word about where he was going. Claudia wasn't his keeper, so she required no such information. Their mother had gone shopping for food, having grown frustrated with the usual consumables that Gamlen brought home. She wanted her children to have some semblance of a healthy diet, even with their limited budget in mind. Claudia would have been happy to eat potato soup and apple pie every day with a whiskey chaser, but her mother was not amused when she voiced her request. Gamlen vanished nearly as early as Quentin, but Claudia had a good idea where he had went. Either he went to the brothel, the tavern, or to piss away more money on gambling.

Her frustration was growing to a point where she was about to smash her hand through a door and deal with the consequences when they came. In order to stem herself, Claudia collapsed into a chair at the dining table, rubbing the bridge of her nose in defeat.

"What are you even searching for?" Asked Bethany, casting a critical eye to the trail of destruction Claudia had left.

The rogue grumbled irritably, not wanting to answer. What she was searching for, it sort of shamed her. She didn't like people to think her soft, or sentimental. It gave people the sense that she was weak, easily defeated. And, with two apostates in her care, she couldn't afford such thoughts. So, Claudia would rather people think her as a sarcastic fear monger. This object, this thing that had brought her so much grief and so early in the day, it was an item of sentimentality.

"You know, I cannot understand you when you do not enunciate properly." Complained Bethany as she took a seat opposite her sister.

Claudia slammed her open palms on the table, growing more annoyed by the second. She turned her head away from her sister, hiding the embarrassed pink hue coloring her cheeks. There was no sense in denying it any longer. Bethany would find out sooner or later.

"I was looking for Carver's sword, okay?" Growled the red head, feeling accused. "The...the wooden one, the one that Quentin and I got him for his eighth Name Day."

Bethany pursed her lips. Claudia assumed it was because she was holding back a particularly cruel jest at Claudia's expense. No insult came. The young mage looked over into the room they shared, since Claudia left the door slightly ajar in her search. Her dainty fingers traced along a knot in the table.

"Do you mind if I asked why you were looking for that?"

Claudia groaned and threw her head back in agony. This line of questioning, it was pure torture. She would rather be waterboarded, or strung up by her toes for hours on end. However terrible and malicious she thought Bethany was being, the girl looked on her with kind, empathetic eyes, causing Claudia to relent. "I couldn't remember if I took it off of his body after...you know. I wanted it, to remember him by. It's not like I can just _go back_ and get it, after all." Her posture relaxed. "I think Mother would like to see that we still have a piece of him with us, even after he left."

"That is actually rather sweet of you."

Claudia turned away, feeling her face flush from embarrassment once more. "Yeah, yeah. Don't go telling people I'm nice, though. I like things the way they are."

"I know." Hummed Bethany in a practiced fashion. "You're big, bad, Claudia Hawke. You cut down anyone who stands in your way and delight in the misery of Templars Thedas-wide."

"You make me sound like a monster." Complained the red head.

"You like people to _think_ you're a monster." Bethany stroked her chin thoughtfully. She was mulling over something that was lost on Claudia. "But, back to the sword: Mother was organizing the chests yesterday. She may have put it in the one where you keep your leathers and daggers."

Claudia thundered to her feet like someone had set a fire beneath her chair and tore into the bedroom she shared with her mother and siblings with an unparalleled ferocity. Why she hadn't thought to look in that chest, she didn't know. Probably because she wouldn't have considered to slip a toy in with her 'murder' gear. Bethany was traveling cautiously behind her as she kicked the chest open. Claudia knelt down and flung its contents onto the floor as she had everything else only shortly before. Her daggers went clanking to the floor just before her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the wooden weapon.

However, something caught her eye. At the bottom of the chest glinted a bit of jewel and metal. A sense of dread filled her as she reached in, grabbing the object with a staggering lack of hesitation. Claudia recognized it instantly as the amulet that she was supposed to deliver on behalf of the Witch of the Wilds.

"Fuck!" Howled Claudia. She scrambled across the floor, gaining little traction as she attempted to get a good hold of her discarded daggers. Her palms sweated, terror filling the pit in her stomach as her brain worked out all of the horrible things that would possibly come to her for failing to deliver the gem.

"What happened?" Asked Bethany, watching as her sister floundered across their room.

"I forgot to bring that amulet to the Dalish!"With her daggers secured, the woman ran towards the front door. "I'm going to find Quentin and make him help me with the delivery."

Bethany was busy with cleaning up the mess that her older sister had made, seemingly okay with straightening the mess. "I think he went down to the clinic." Mused the dark-haired Hawke. "Wanted to see if Anders could help him with his healing, I think."

Then, there was a knock at the front door.

This resulted in both sisters nearly jumping out of their own skin due to being startled. Claudia was closer to the door, so naturally, she was the one who opened it. She didn't quite know who she was expecting. Gamlen's debt collectors, no doubt. Ser Biscuit anticipated the same sort of visitor. He rose up defensively, letting out a low, guttural growl and baring his teeth. Claudia rewarded his protective nature with a pat to the head.

The door swung open and on the other side was Aveline, looking nearly as shocked as the pair. She took one look around the small home, noticing the piles of belongings Claudia had littered the floor with. With a slightly raised brow and her mouth set in a harsh line, she asked a question that she wasn't going to receive an answer to.

Upon seeing her, Biscuit let out a happy yip and proudly trotted to her side, either looking for scraps of meat or affection. He received the latter of the two in the form of ear scratches.

"Good!" Boomed the rogue, intercepting her friend by the forearm. "You can come with me!"

Aveline wrenched her arm from the other woman and gave her an icy stare. Claudia, not liking this particular side of the woman, backed away a wary step.

"What is going on, here?" Demanded the guardswoman. "I come here on my day off to see how your wound is doing, and your home looks as though it was ransacked by thieves and you're trying to spirit me away before I can get two words out." She folded her arms across her chest intimidatingly. "I want answers."

Claudia pursed her lips and mussed with a lock of her hair awkwardly. "And you'll get them. The short story here is that I fucked up and need to fix it ASAP, lest I wind up dead. Now, let's go."

"What did you steal and who did it belong to?" Asked Aveline judgmentally.

"Why do you think I _stole_ something?" Claudia patted her leathers down, proving that she had nothing tucked inside them. It offended her a little, considering she had been fairly well behaved since coming to Kirkwall. At one point, in her youth, Claudia would have seen where someone would have thought she was picking pockets. Presently, her fingers were hardly sticky.

Aveline shrugged. "You have that shifty look about you, Claudia. Always looking like you're awaiting the guards to come and drag you off to the dungeons."

Claudia grappled for Aveline's arm once more. This time, the guardswoman wasn't quick enough to shove her off. Or, she was just more willing, now that her companion's impending doom was on the line.

Bethany was trekking back into their room to retrieve her staff, but stopped halfway through the threshold. She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she scanned over the mess that her sister made. Claudia realized that they couldn't leave the house in this state, not when their mother was due home soon.

Having reached the same conclusion, Bethany ceased what she was doing and begun to pick up some stray articles of clothing that were hanging off the back of one of the chairs. "Mother wouldn't like to come home to this disaster." Explained the younger woman, scooping up some more belongings in her cradled arms. "You should go with Aveline and Quentin. I'll stay home and tell Mother...I'll tell her you went out drinking."

"Works for me."

Claudia dragged Aveline from the little hovel she called home and down the steps that led into the streets. This was no easy task, given the warrior's heavy armor and unrelenting demeanor. Still, as soon as they reached the bottom step, the woman followed dutifully. As such, Claudia gladly released her arm and led the way towards the clinic.

"Are you going to tell me what sort of trouble you landed yourself into?" Barked Aveline in a fashion that was hardly even asking.

Claudia twirled on the balls of her feet, causing her to face backwards—towards Aveline. She continued walking, albeit backwards, as she fished in her leathers for the amulet that Flemeth had entrusted her with. If ever it had felt cold and uninviting, now was that time. Her fingers latched onto it, feeling a sudden frost take the tips of her digits. She pried it free, keeping her face calm as to not expose the panic she felt.

"Remember this little baby?" Asked Claudia, flashing a glimpse of the jewelry at Aveline.

The warrior froze.

"Maker's breath, Claudia!" Swore Aveline. She took several large steps to catch up with the rogue. "I thought you would have taken care of that by now!"

"I know." Groused Claudia. "I'm a dumbass and you can tell me _all_ about it after we deliver this to the Dalish." She spun once more, facing the right direction. In her movement, she replaced the witch's amulet. "Right now, I'm keen on finding my brother so we can keep my head off of the chopping block. Sound good to you?"

"What makes you think that your contract with the witch hasn't expired yet?"

Claudia shrugged nonchalantly. She hadn't thought about that little technicality. Though, she also had all of her gold on the fact that if her agreement had time constraints, Flemeth would have done something to make sure Claudia paid up, or else. "A high dragon hasn't swooped down from the sky and charred me to a crisp yet, so I'll take my chances."

"I suppose that is a fair enough way to think about it."

When Claudia came charging into the clinic, Aveline tailing her in a manner similar to a lost puppy, everyone present froze from shock. There were a couple of dirty refugees waiting patiently on some cots as she marched passed who looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. This was most likely due to the fact that in stormed a fully armed woman and their healer grabbed not for a weapon, nor batted a single eyelash. Speaking of the healer, he—along with her brother—was justly startled. He looked up from his patient upon his table, brows elevated on his forehead at the look of duty and fear she wore. Quentin wore a similar expression, the bandages and bottle of salve he was cradling in his hands spilling onto the table in the process.

"What happened?" Asked Quentin, accurately guessing that Claudia wouldn't have made a house call to the clinic just out of boredom if Aveline was with her.

Anders cast his fellow mage a sideways glance, denoting something that had spoken about that both Claudia and Aveline were ignorant to. She didn't like that.

"Did you take something valuable and now the owner of said object has a bounty on your head?" The healer was grinning, telling Claudia that he was joking, but unfairly at her expense. Over the past week and a half, he had grown accustomed to them, the best she imagined he could have, Claudia supposed. Quentin spent a lot of time there, attempting to learn magic that their father hadn't taught them. Claudia had went sometimes, but just like in their youth, she was often neglected because she didn't share a common thread in their conversations.

"Why does everyone assume I'm a thief?" Whined Claudia. Her gaze trickled over to her brother, who had gone pink in the face.

Obviously, Quentin had a hand in their recent developments.

"Sorry, Claudia." Quentin put on a dejected sort of performance to garner sympathy. "I told them about that time in Denerim. But, it's just such a _funny_ story. I didn't think you would mind."

"I don't." Claudia sighed. With her left hand, she rubbed the side of her head, mussing her hair into a slightly tangled knot in the process. Using her right hand, she produced the amulet Flemeth had bestowed upon her. Quentin took it gingerly, as if he would burst into flames from merely touching it.

"Shit! I forgot all about this." The man turned it over in his palm, examining the back, just in case monsters decided to spring out of it.

"Me too. We should probably go deliver this to Marethari now, lest we get turned to frogs or something."

"Marethari?" Asked Anders. He had since dismissed his patient. With them, they had taken the other refugees, leaving only the four present. "My commander was part of a Dalish clan of elves before she joined the Wardens. I think she mentioned her Keeper being a woman named Marethari."

"Good to know." Said Claudia indifferently. She didn't see where that information would ultimately help them.

The healer looked at the amulet over Quentin's shoulder, curiosity spelled out on his face. Claudia didn't know if mages could sense magical objects, but from the look he was wearing, the amulet her brother was currently in possession of gave off some sort of magical energy.

"Might I ask how you acquired this?"

"A witch gave it to me because she thought I was funny." Stated Claudia with an impish grin.

"That isn't what happened." Corrected the warrior forcefully, causing the rogue to shrink back a step. "You wouldn't believe it if we told you. Sufficed to say, Claudia has a contract to fulfill with a very powerful...person, and she has, up until this point, neglected her end of the bargain. She fears dire consequences befalling her if she continues to neglect the terms of the agreement."

"I have a mouth of my own, you know."

"And you were too busy using to to make jokes."

Anders shifted his weight, still staring uncomfortably at the amulet in Quentin's hand. "What sort of consequences do you fear?"

"The sort where I am no longer alive." Claudia's answer came out as passive, as if she cared little for her well being. This was the furthest one could get from the truth, but she didn't want someone to worry on her behalf. "No doubt, the consequences would fall upon my mother, siblings, and Aveline as well, considering I agreed to the terms of it on behalf of the lot of us."

"And I take it, you won't be divulging the terms of this arrangement with me." Bitterly guessed Anders.

"Not until this is settled." Claudia was trying her hand at a pragmatic approach to this situation, which she told herself that she didn't suit all too well. Quentin was far more practical, very cautious, too. She, she was the one who charged in without bothering to consider consequences and then ask questions _after_ she reached the point of no return. That was what their mother said, and truthfully, Claudia saw the logic behind these words. However, she was not looking to endanger more people because she was reckless and told everyone who would listen about the witch who resided in the swamplands, the witch who could morph from an unassuming hag into a dragon at the snap of a finger. This terrified Claudia enough to attempt to think before she acted.

"Now, if you're done prodding me for answers, I will be collecting my brother and the three of us will go about our task."

Anders folded his arms sharply. He didn't look to keen on allowing them to leave with such a sparing explanation. It wasn't his business, rationalized Claudia as she attempted the same look. His stern gaze broke her resolve to be as authoritative as he, causing her to slouch her shoulders in an unnecessarily animated fashion.

"I think I should come with." Suggested the healer. No had lost all place in his vocabulary.

Quentin, having finished his inspection of the amulet, passed it back to his sister, who managed to keep it far more secured in her curiass than he ever would be able to within the confines of his linen clothing.

"That isn't such a good idea." Claudia looked to Quentin, hoping that he would offer his voice to her claim. He shrugged, clarifying that this was her battle to fight, not his. "It's just a simple delivery. Climb up the mountain, give the Dalish the amulet and _wham bam_ , we're back in Kirkwall trying to convince Varric to buy us a pint as a reward for our hard work."

Anders' response was a hasty shake of the head. "You cannot use that silver tongue of yours to talk me out of this." The man grabbed for his staff and a small satchel he kept of what appeared to be poultices from nearby. Claudia wasn't as skilled with persuasion as she liked to think. "I know enough about you to know that you throw caution to the wind. I also know that you're still recovering from the business at the Chantry. You need me, so I'm coming."


	15. Chapter 15

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Sundermount was a strange sort of location. It acted as a natural barrier that kept Kirkwall—and the rest of the Free Marches—separate from Antiva and Rivain. Granted, there was a whole mountain range that also accomplished this, but Sundermount was the one with the Dalish clan that needed to be sought out. It bordered an expanse of land that was the closest thing that the southern part of the Free Marches could claim as a desert. While dry and acrid, the heat wasn't so terrible, except on blaring summer days when the sun was high. And, from such a higher location, on clear days, one could see all the way to the Waking Sea.

Claudia was far too focused to notice or care for the view, which Anders brought up a couple of times wistfully, alluding to a story going with his remarks. She was leading the group up a particularly precarious road, one that seemed to have suffered a landslide recently. This was evident from how effectively the mud encased her boots and refused further movement from her, regardless of how hard she tugged. No one else seemed to be having the same issues as her, which just gave cause for frustration. Aveline was tearing through the mud, looking more and more like a battering ram than a woman with each minute. Quentin, on the other hand, stepped lightly in the tracks that the two women had already made. Apparently, Anders had been the only one to think of testing his footing with his staff and choosing the most dry of places to step.

The motley group had made it a good distance without finding hide nor hair of the Dalish clan Flemeth had spoke of a year prior when a gnawing formed in the pit of her stomach. Unease settled in her mind as the familiar sensation took her, causing her to look around the remains of what looked to have once been stone structures for something awful out to get them. She did not dally, nor stray from her path. Quentin would notice her discomfort and then start to panic. The last thing they needed was for him to be on edge.

But, there was signs. Signs that he would notice, if he wasn't too busy trying to discern if he could see Ferelden from so high up. Lace-like webs hung from trees further in the dense brush. They were hard to see with the naked eye. Claudia had only been fortunate to notice due to a beam of sunlight shining through the branches and illuminating it just so. Then, there was the overall lack of wildlife. She hadn't heard a single bird making its place in the trees in order to serenade the travelers, nor a bold doe to dart in their path in search of her mate. Not even a rodent made its den along this path. If Claudia could make a guess, she would have surmised that something large and frightening had terrified the animals to the point of avoiding this leg of road. Something that was sounding more and more like a giant spider as she went over the evidence in her head.

Not one to deny the danger any longer, the woman looked to her companions, who seemingly lacked the same chill down the spine that she possessed. Claudia tugged at her leathers, putting to bed the thought that Quentin could be sent into a frenzy over the thought of danger; she was probably just being irrational.

"Spiders." Hissed the red head, claiming the attention of the other three with her hushed words.

Aveline drew her sword with precaution. She widened her stance in tune with Anders muttering a protective spell that cloaked over them once he had finished his incantation. Quentin drew his staff, prepared to weave his own magic and stick something with the pointy end if need be.

Then, as if summoned by Claudia's uttering of the word, a grouping of about five giant spiders descended from the trees surrounding their location. Claudia hadn't the mindset to ponder over what a group of spiders was called, nor if spiders traveled in packs as she leaped out of the way of one of the mammoth beast's drooling pincers. Given Anders' spell of protection, the rogue felt invincible. She regrouped quickly, jumping into the fray without a second thought about her mortality.

The spiders had difficulties deciding which of the four looked to be the tastiest of targets. One let out something akin to a shriek and skittered towards Aveline menacingly. Unbeknownst to the arachnid of monstrous proportions, the warrior was, perhaps, the most formidable of the lot. It approached with a carnal hunger, but she was fiercer, still.

Aveline blocked the main force of the spider's charge with her shield. She skidded several feet back, narrowly missing a hazardous shock of magic that whizzed passed her head. Affording only the slightest curiosity in the direction which the magic came from. Quentin met her gaze and waved apologetically. The spider, in this momentary lapse, was attempting to claw its way out from behind the shield. Aveline met this with a downward thrust of her blade. In a single motion, she managed to crack the hard exoskeleton that protected the arachnid and end its life.

Anders and Quentin seemed to be enjoying themselves more than they should have. It started with a simple fire spell, the sort that every young mage masters. Quentin's arm was bathed in it, taunting the spiders as they sought to swarm his fellow magic user. This caught their attention well enough, breaking their concentration on the target at hand and causing them to shuffle over to the more illuminated one. Having not thought of the repercussions, namely being three giant spiders with sharp pincers, Quentin eased backwards. He had temporarily forgot that he still clutched a fire ball in his grip.

"Claudia!" He pleaded. His sister was nowhere to be found.

Then, one of the spiders burst into a fiery splendor. Orange and yellow flames encased its body as it danced around the mountainside in search of something to quench the heat. Its friends dispersed quickly, hissing in fear and self-preservation. Eventually, the giant foe collapsed, going belly up (as was typical for their kind), and being reduced to a charred husk.

Quentin whistled lowly in approval, noticing the grin on Anders' face at the sight. He was not to be outdid, however. So, with his pre-conjured flames, Quentin fired out a successive line of fireballs towards one of the fleeing spiders. One nearly struck Aveline, which resulted in an embarrassed grin. Soon, his own spider was reduced to nothing more than smoldering remains, not unlike his fellow mage's

It was widely believed that Claudia had quit the field as soon as the spiders had made their presence known. She had disappeared so suddenly that it was a fairly sound claim to make.

This was not the truth.

Of the four spiders that had attacked them, one was different. The three were bulbous, with black legs, and a sandy-colored backside. Plain looking, she thought. Not unlike the household variety that made their webs in the corners of their home. However, that fourth spider was as black as pitch, and with a slinky body to match. It had a suspicious red pattern upon its back, causing Claudia to remember back to when she was small.

She had always been interested in her father's reagent collection, namely because it gave her the chance to spend precious little time with. One time, in particular, he was hunting down a very poisonous type. Her father had not permitted Claudia to attend with him, as a single bite would be fatal for a small child, but he drew her a nice picture, so she could get an idea. It was inky black, with a red backside.

Like the spider currently fleeing Anders' and Quentin's conjoined flames.

Claudia knew that she couldn't face the spider in her usual fashion; if it was just quick enough to land a bite, it _would_ kill her. She doubted if Anders could work his magic a second time and save her from death's door. As such, she quickly worked out a plan.

She was on the edge of a branch, just sturdy enough to support her weight. Though, it did creak, causing her palms to go clammy. Claudia had been waiting for someone to herd the spider in her direction. It seemed to stay near the others, much to her dismay.

Yet, as the remaining spiders were little more than empty exoskeletons by this point, it panicked. The black beast of a spider hissed menacingly and scurried over towards the tree she was in. Naturally, she chose her tree wisely. It was the closest, and one of the tallest, which would give her target ample space to climb from and then descend again, as well as a decent vantage point in order to figure out a new direction of attack.

It drew closer, eight legs clicking against the ground. Claudia tensed. The branch she was situation on was barely in her grip any longer. She held her breath.

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

Once the spider was in range, Claudia leaped from the tree and onto its back in a fluid, luck-driven motion. Her thighs cinched around its back, anticipating the erratic, shocked movements it coursed though in search of the added weight. She only received the briefest of shocked expressions on her companions' faces as she rode the arachnid much like a horse, all the while fumbling for her daggers. Once she got a good grip on one, she drove it straight through the creature's head. It shrieked agonizingly, halting all movement and nearly bucking Claudia off of its back entirely. Her fingers laced around the hilt of her second blade. With this one, she made a clean slicing motion at her side, hacking through limbs as if it were a hot knife gliding through a pad of butter.

The trembling ceased and Claudia dismounted from the deceased spider. Quentin's eyes were wide in amazement when she sauntered up casually. His shock turned almost instantly to a grin as he looked at the carcass, and the spider goo that was dripping from his sibling's forearms.

"Always have to make a grand entrance, don't we?" He asked.

Claudia half-shrugged. The movement was skewed by her attempt at cleaning her limbs on her leather leggings. She had anticipated some sort of chiding from him, regarding her previous injuries. This was better, though. This was almost nice.

"Sounds about right." Stated the red head agreeably. "I'm always out to one-up everyone else."

Just when Claudia had thought that she dodged the 'getting in trouble' arrow, Aveline caught her eye, looking mighty pissed. The rogue suddenly diminished in size as she considered tossing down one of her smoke bombs in order to make a swift exit. Anders wore an expression not unlike Aveline's, which only made the woman feel that much more guilty. Her pride told her to puff her chest, to demand gratitude because she finished off the last spider, and with such theatrical flair. However, that disappointed look on the mage's face washed away spite and her ego.

"What would you have done if you had miscalculated your 'entrance'?" Asked Anders, channeling whatever latent paternal instincts he may or may not have possessed.

Claudia shrugged once more, intending on playing it off as a joke, despite her growing guilt. "I don't know. Pray to the Maker that you were there to catch me?"

"He's right, Claudia."

Dammit! Claudia hated it when people ganged up on her like this. Especially so when it was Aveline and Anders giving her the guilt trip. At least her mother wasn't present. Claudia wouldn't doubt if she could coax Knight-Commander Meredith herself into feeling so miserable.

"Listen." Claudia rose her hands defensively, putting herself in a vulnerable position between the pair. "It's over. I'm fine. No need to worry, okay?"

"Have you no sense of danger?" Spat Anders. His brows were pushing together, spelling out his frustration for her on his face. "Have you nothing in you mind that tells you to—"

"—It's of no use." Aveline's interruption was guttural, almost a growl in quality. "She doesn't listen to anyone but herself. You'll never win."

Aveline trailed off, finding their path once more. Anders followed close behind the warrior. He cast Claudia a look of utter disappointment over his shoulder. It was a look that caused her blood to run cold.

Claudia, meanwhile, stamped behind them. She was tired of being on the chopping block. It happened at home. It happened when she still worked for the Iron. And now, even her friends were calling out her faults—what they percieved to be faults—and criticizing them. They wouldn't like it if the shoe were on the other foot. Yet, she had a feeling she'd be labeled a bitch if she gave them the same treatment.

Ten agonizingly silent minutes ticked on, leaving Claudia nearly insane. She screamed out in her mind, asking someone to talk about the weather, or that weird mole they only just noticed on their leg. Shit, she'd take Anders' endless complaints about Templars. The rogue couldn't help but feel like they were punishing her. Yet, as she opened her mouth to give them her accusatory words, the healer looked back at her. Not in anger, not in shame. He looked concerned as he scanned what bits of her he could see for injury. Claudia hadn't noticed the look, not until he was studying her abdomen and must have felt her gaze on him. Quickly, he adverted his eyes, only to hesitate and look back her way.

"You have no idea how lucky you are, do you?" He asked, a note of bitterness stinging his words.

"Luck has always been my strong suit. At least, when it comes to evading near-death experiences. Otherwise, I'm as unfortunate as a lame mule."

Aveline, who had been briskly leading the four of them, halted. Quentin nearly ran into her, but was swift enough to stop walking just before he ran head first into her plate armor. "She has...visions." Sighed the warrior, as if she doubted the words herself. "Claudia's ability to cheat death comes from that."

"They're _not_ visions." Huffed Claudia.

Anders looked confused. More than confused, though. It was as if something he had been taught his whole life was suddenly wrong and he was forced to accept a different truth. "But, you're not a mage."

"You don't need to be a mage to possess minimal forms of future-sight." Quentin had since regrouped from nearly running into Aveline and was ready to explain. This delighted Claudia as she hated having to do so herself. "We're taught that only mages have magic, but that's not true. Magic exists all around us, and even inside of us all. The spark of life, that's magic. The changing of the seasons is a form of magic. It's because of this magic spark that non-magic lines can produce mages, and why families brimming with magic sometimes produce a non-mage heir. Magic is...it's like...like a locked door, of sorts. Everyone has that door, and everyone has a key. With mages, our key opens our door, no problem. With _most_ non-mages, their key doesn't open their door. Claudia's door is one of those doors that opens from both the top and the bottom, but her key only opens half. So, she has strange hunches, or occasionally, a premonition here or there, but cannot cast."

"Carver was like that as well." Added Claudia sadly. "He just tried to ignore it."

"I've never heard this before." Said Anders quickly. He didn't appear to be arguing, but rather, trying to process what he had just heard.

"You haven't met many people outside of the Circle." Suggested Quentin.

"And, it's not something I like to advertise." Added Claudia. "What I have...whatever you want to call it, it sounds like magic to someone listening in on a conversation they are not part of. The last thing I need is to have Templars beating down my door." This was where Claudia chose to break off the conversation and continue on towards the Dalish.

That was also when two Dalish blocked their path.

Both were heavily armed and armored, all with the finest craftsmanship the Dalish could afford. They looked irate, like they would run them through at a moment's notice. Probably because three—equally armed—humans were approaching. Claudia couldn't blame them.

"Halt, shems." Barked the man, drawing his sword in order to block their path in a more effective manner. "You shall go no further."

 _Shem._ From what little Claudia knew of the word, this was a racial slur referring to humans. Being called such a loaded term set a small fire in the woman's stomach, one that refused to be quenched so easily. Most likely, she was still mad at Anders and Aveline for treating her like a child. Still, picking a fight with the Dalish was not her intention. So, Claudia swallowed hard and fished for the amulet within her leathers.

"I was sent here on an errand for...Andraste's tits, it's really lodged in there!"

No matter how hard she tried, the damned amulet kept slipping through her fingers. Her face had contorted into something quite humorous as she managed to finally get a firm grasp of it and pull it from her articles of clothing with enough flair for the lot of them. Victory secured, Claudia gave the elves a good look at the object in question.

"As I was saying, I was sent by Flemeth, whatever you call her—Asha'Bellanar, or something—to give this to your Keeper."

The man was an unwavering as a stone pillar. Given his unrelenting attitude, the woman's face calmed a considerable amount. She braved a glimpse of the amulet, even growing brave enough to run her fingers along its smooth surface. Claudia was sure to remain still; the last thing she needed was to spook a Dalish woman who would kill her on the spot circumstances.

"You're the one Keeper Marethari spoke of." Gasped the woman, taking a step back in order to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the man.

As skeptical as the man seemed to be, upon the woman's exclamation, his face softened as well. "I though she would be one of the Elvhen."

Claudia feigned lamentation. Due to their calmer nature, the woman thought that it was safe to joke. She had never met a true Dalish elf before. The only elves she met behaved closer to humans than they did their forest-dwelling cousins. Other than the strange facial tattoos the ones she was conversing with were sporting, she noticed no difference.

"If it will make you feel more safe, I could always fold my ears to a point."

The man's eyes narrowed, confirming that her gamble was a stupid one. Though, Claudia shrugged it off with as much dignity she could muster, circumstances permitting.

"You may proceed, shem." Coolly remarked the man. He lowered his sword, but did not warm his icy stare. "However, we are watching you."

"Duly noted." Said Claudia before bowing her head ceremoniously at both elves and leading her companions into the encampment.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Dear me, is Berry full of apologies today.

Apology 1: I've put off writing this chapter for way too long. Mostly because I had research to do that I really didn't want to do. But, there was a loss in my family as well, which made me very unmotivated to do much of anything, on top of a fairly busy holiday at work, which, made it hard to get around to typing.

Apology 2: When I attempted to do research for this chapter, the all powerful Gods of Youtube frowned upon me and only made me able to find clips of Merrill's introductory dialogue. Normally, this would be a nonissue, as I'd just pop in my copy of the game and play through the quest line while taking notes. But, being the nice daughter I am, I loaned my dad my Xbox 360 and my copy of the game so that he could play it. So, I apologize if dialogue isn't game-accurate; I'm working off of four hours of sleep and what I can remember of the game.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Part of Quentin was amazed by the Dalish camp.

The other part was terrified.

Overall, the elves avoided their group. He didn't fault them for this in the slightest. Here they were, an armed group of humans, invading their numbers under the pretense that they had 'something' for their Keeper. This, at least to him, sounded like the makings of an attack. Not that he had any intention of slaughtering these beautiful, misunderstood people. Then, there was Aveline. Like her usual self, she played the part of the stout guards-woman. Her hand scarcely left the hilt of her sword, which hung limply off of her left hip. Those spirited green eyes of hers had gone steely the second Claudia was taken to the Keeper alone. The elves hardly trusted _one_ human to talk to their leader. Four, why that would be nothing short of ridiculous.

Only the children looked on them with a degree of interest that wasn't blind hate. Some were playing by the central firepit where the land ships massed around. They glanced up from their games, one even drawing attention to the strange-looking folk cautiously eyeing the fire-haired human flashing glances of her amulet to their Keeper. Quentin waved, to which one of the smaller children recoiled in horror. The oldest apparently chided this child, and the games resumed.

Anders, this whole time, was on edge. He wrung his willowy hands together as he kept a wary eye on Claudia. The man was practically burning a hole through her! Then, once he was sure that she must have felt his gaze on her, he would pace about, practically wearing the grass down along his path.

This amused Quentin, though he didn't fully understand why.

"Something wrong, Anders?" Questioned the mage. This remark apparently caught the healer off-guard. He stopped his procession rather abruptly while his mouth fumbled about soundlessly in search of the appropriate words.

"Are you not afraid that she will single-handedly incur the wrath of the Dalish?"

Quentin shrugged indifferently. "A bit, but I also trust that she will figure that our situation is delicate without us holding her hand and treating her like a child."

Aveline scoffed. "Sometimes she needs to be treated like a child."

Quentin shook his head dismissively. "That only causes her to act out more. Claudia has seen twenty-four years, I am sure she will realize that the Dalish are not too keen on dangerous-looking humans becoming right comfortable in their camp. Especially when said humans behave disrespectfully."

While Quentin knew it must have sounded like he was giving Claudia too much credit, given her _entrance_ earlier, he also knew her better than any one else. He knew things about her that would make her shudder in repulsion, things that would make people look on her in respect rather than distrust. He also knew that there was a functioning adult underneath many layers of sarcasm and childish behaviors.

"I still don't like this." Groused Anders, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring completely at their topic of conversation. "Can't we go and make sure she doesn't stick her foot in her mouth and inevitably get us all killed?"

Aveline grunted in a form of approval.

Quentin, however, was unconvinced. He saw Anders' perspective, and that being a man who had only gotten to know his sister for being that idiot who jumped in front of a sword to spare her sister. To him, she seemed reckless, impulsive, and with little regard for her own life. And while Quentin could see this side of her, he also knew Claudia much longer than the pair currently eyeing her for any follies. He knew her for her shrewd thinking, for the way she would shove he and Bethany into alleyways while she distracted a passing Templar in order to give them time enough to sneak away. He knew her silver-coated tongue that would charm their mother into believing that they were perfectly behaved and up to no misgivings. She was his sister, so he was left with little option but to have faith in her.

It was Anders' growing concern, though, that struck Quentin as a bit odd. He was already under the suspicion that Claudia had somehow managed to beguile the healer so quickly, whether either of them realized it or not. However much he noticed this, Quentin was far from jealous. Anders wasn't his type. The other mage was just far too tall and fair for his tastes. Maybe it was the light hair and the dark eyes, traits that he had attributed to their father previously. Either way, if Claudia wanted him, she could have him with no intervention from Quentin.

"If I didn't know any better, I would wager that you carry a slight flame for my sister, hence your concern." Joked Quentin.

Anders' brows knit together in contest of Quentin's claim. "I do not need to hold a flame for her to see that she has little regard for her own safety, or that losing her would surely devastate your mother and sister."

Aveline, who had been silently observing the elves for any signs of hostility, joined in. "He _is_ right, Quentin. However much of a pain Claudia can be, your mother would be heartbroken to lose her, especially so soon after losing Carver. Especially to her own foolish bravado and stupidity."

Quentin cast an eye to his sister. No Dalish warriors had swarmed her with weapons drawn. Still only remained her and the Keeper, speaking in quiet tones as to avoid the ears of others. Claudia then dipped her head in a show of respect and set off to join the others. "From the looks of it, she did just fine." When Claudia was within earshot, Quentin addressed her. "Everything went swimmingly?"

"Very." Hummed his sister, sounding more relieved than he initially wagered she would. "We must climb Sundermount further, until we reach something like a small graveyard and an altar. Then, we will perform a Dalish rite. After, we haven't to fear Flemeth returning to us in order to disembowel us and string our entrails from the trees like streamers."

Anders wrinkled his nose disapprovingly at her description of Flemeth's wrath.

"How do you suppose we will be performing a Dalish rite?" Asked Aveline. She appeared agitated, but kept it from her voice well. "None of us are Dalish."

"Marethari requested that we take her 'first' with us. Whatever that means. She wishes to relocate to Kirkwall permanently. When we reach the altar, she will perform the rite. Then, we take her back to the city with us." Claudia was swelling proudly. If Quentin wasn't absolutely sure that she hadn't heard their discussion, he would have assumed that his vote of confidence in her had given her a big head. "Oh, and before I forget, Marethari has also permitted to trade with the craftsmen of the clan if we wish, though I don't think we're currently inclined to do a bit of shopping."

Quentin smiled and patted his sister on the back. She regarded this gesture with a look of pure confusion. His own response was limited to casting their other two companions a look that said _I told you so._ Everyone else agreed that trading with the Dalish was not the best idea, circumstances given, and begun their ascent of Sundermount.

They were only just out of the Dalish camp—so close, in fact, that they could still see the contempt on the elves faces—when they found her. She was a small sort of girl, with a delicate frame and her raver hair cropped short. Her back was to them as she was crouched over, inspecting something with a respectable amount of focus. Quentin could only assume this was who they were looking for and hoped that Claudia was a little more knowledgeable on the subject.

Either she was, or just a little more anxious to get this task over with, because she cleared her throat so loudly that it could only be to draw the attention of another. The elf, whomever she was, stopped what she was doing and stood up in order to address them properly.

Like the rest of them, she wore those facial tattoos, of which Quentin couldn't remember the correct name. She fumbled anxiously before giving the four of them an awkward sort of grin that the mage couldn't help but find terribly adorable.

"Oh!" Their presence must have surprised the elf. "I didn't hear. You must be the ones the Keeper has told me about. Aneth era!"

Only a beat after finishing, a look of pure horror crossed the girl's face. She looked at each of them gauging their reactions before continuing. "I'm so sorry! I didn't ask your name. Unless...it's not rude to ask a human's name, is it?" She breathed in, though shallowly as she had more to say. "I'm Merrill, which you probably knew, already. I'm rambling, sorry.

Claudia giggled at Quentin's side. He himself found the fumbling elf to be far too adorable for proper conversation.

"No, it isn't, and it's fine." Answered Claudia diplomatically. "I get told I talk too much, myself. Anyway, my name is Claudia Hawke, the dopey-looking blonde next to me is my brother, Quentin. The one woman battalion currently itching to put the sharp end of her sword in something—probably me—is Aveline Vallen, and the less dopey-looking blonde is Anders, surname unknown."

"Thank you." Said the elf, Merrill, who look rather relieved at the kindness she was receiving. Quentin didn't dare mention his dislike of the description he received before she continued. "I'm afraid that I don't have much experience with your kind. The Keeper said you came from Ferelden. I've spent most of my life there. We've only come north shortly before the Blight. Have you been in the Free Marches long?"

"No kidding!" Boomed Claudia. "Quentin, Aveline, and I all came to Kirkwall shortly before the Blight as well. Anders, well, he's _supposed_ to be fighting Blights, but you see where that got him."

Merrill beamed. "What a coincidence! Do you like it here?"

"I could be worse." Shrugged Quentin, finally taking an active role in the conversation. "We could be...impaled on 'spawn weapons, beggars in the street because our home was burned down, dy—"

"—I think she gets the picture, Quentin."Interrupted Aveline, frustrated.

"We should go." Suggested Merrill, taking note of Aveline trying to rush the conversation along. "Your task is for Asha'Bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

The four of them followed behind Merrill, who had a better idea of where they were going opposed to them. Meanwhile, Claudia wore a crooked grin that troubled Quentin.

"We've kept her waiting one year. What's a few more minutes?"

Aveline smacked the exposed part of Claudia's arm. "Knock it off, Claudia." She warned sternly.

The five of them had scarcely made any distance when a sense of dread descended upon Quentin. The ground rumbled beneath his feet as bits of the dirt and gravel seemed to just fall away. Like, it was being clawed at from underneath. He looked to the others, each of them wearing the same look of concern and confusion that settled on his face.

Then, he saw a skeletal hand rise up mere inches from Anders' left boot.

"Anders!" He howled. "Watch out!"

The mage instinctively leaped back a foot, dodging the hand that had previously attempted clawing at his ankle. Quentin was unsure if he knew this, but the other mage had his staff drawn as a precaution, just in case.

All around them, skeletons were rising from unmarked graves. They clamored out the the ground, armed with whatever crude weapons that they had been buried with and ready to attack. Aveline met them with zeal. Quentin was sure she was itching for combat, resulting in her taking one of the undead foes head-on for a sword duel.

Claudia, he noticed, was the quickest to frustration. She sidled behind one such enemy easily, but found that back stabbing was positively useless when your enemy had no body to stab. Her blades were becoming stuck in the skeleton's ribs, resulting in an enraged growl and a swift kick to the bony spine of her adversary.

Merrill worked quickly, weaving fire spells in rapid succession. This seemed to be the only thing that was working, as the skeletons quickly lit up. Their bones were brittle, and definitely in no condition to withstand wave after wave of raging heat. The ones she managed to set ablaze crumbled into useless heaps of ash in a matter of a few short seconds.

Anders and Quentin followed suit, making quick work of the remaining skeletal foes in the face of Aveline's and Claudia's uselessness.

While the healer checked everyone for any injuries that required patching up, Quentin approached Merrill, still rather impressed that she was the one to figure out how to extinguish their foes so quickly.

"Please keep turning our enemies to toads for us." He chimed, clearly humored.

"But I didn't—" Started Merrill, "—oh, sarcasm. Right. I'll shut up now. I'm babbling, let's go."


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: I apologize once again. Life has been very demanding. I was responsible for hosting a baby shower for my sister, which was taking up more time than it should have, on top of helping her move to her new house. And, in other, more exciting news from my bank account's standpoint, I'll be starting a new job in a week. It'll be a full time position, so for the next month or so, my posting schedule will be all sorts of odd. But, I'm hoping to find a rhythm sooner rather than later. Thank you for understanding.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Merrill led the five of them up the mountain path until they reached a cavern. The Dalish elf claimed that they had to go through to reach the summit. And, since the ritual needed to be performed there, they were left with little choice. Claudia was certainly in no mood to enrage all-powerful witches who could shift into the form of a dragon at will, so she did no arguing. Really, though, she was just exhausted and wanted to go home. The climbing on top of the fighting left her fatigued, and she knew, despite better efforts, that it was showing. A fine sheen of sweat accumulated on her face, and her mouth was fixed in a permanent sort of frown. She didn't dare think about the fact that there was still the trip back to Kirkwall to deal with after their newfound elven friend performed her ritual.

She couldn't even imagine how Quentin and Anders were holding together. They hadn't been abusing their magic, per say, but with being attacked twice already, she didn't imagine they had much energy to go through another fight. Granted, she was judging by what she knew of her brother's capabilities. Since he had no formal training, it was quite possible that his abilities were more rudimentary in comparison to their friend who spend about half of his life in the Circle. But, what did she truly know?

Aveline, as always, looked like she could take down Viscount's Keep all by herself. She was truly a one-woman army, and if she was fatigued, neither her face nor her actions showed it. In fact, she kept her hand on the hilt of her weapon, anticipating more enemies. Claudia, despite not being the religious sort, prayed that she was wrong.

Much to everyone's dismay, the cavern itself was teeming with spider silk. Claudia grimaced and looked around the group, only to find the same pained expressions on everyone's faces, save Merrill, who lacked their previous experience with arachnid foes.

Anders was the first to do anything about it, though. He wrinkled his nose in displeasure, and with brows knit, ignited a flame in his right palm. It was small, barely a flicker in the dank cave, but his intentions were clear; the man was going to burn the webs and get the spiders to come down, eliminating the element of surprise.

"Whenever the lot of you are ready." He stated simply, the flames dancing, agitated, in his hand.

Everyone drew their weapons, and Quentin cloaked the group in one of the few protective spells he dabbled in. It wasn't as potent as the one the healer had used earlier, but it still felt as though Claudia could take down a small army on her own. She enjoyed feeling invincible.

With a nod from Aveline, who was already in offensive position, Anders begun burning down the webs with a spray of fire. First, there was nothing, save the panicked shrieks of their arachnid foes and the garish shuffling of their bodies against the smoldering silks. Several dropped to the cave floor, already burned enough to be no threat to the travelers. Still, a handful that did not meet this fate dropped down to avoid the flames, but met a grisly end, all the same.

The spiders were dispatched quickly, though not without some difficulty. The stalagmites made outmaneuvering their enemies trying, resulting in a very fatigued and equally as frustrated Claudia. She rationalized that mounting one like a horse and doing away with it that way would have been more effective, like earlier that day. Yet, at every chance she had to pry her attention from combat, she was met with the warrior's watchful gaze. So, Claudia remained, both feet planted firmly on the ground, and grumpy for it.

Spiders now dead, the five managed to evacuate the cave, which was now heavy with the stench of roasted spiders and the smoke that followed. The fresh air felt nice against Claudia's skin, though her limbs still ached and she wanted to sleep for no less than a year. She didn't know how Aveline possessed so much energy, especially as the lady warrior pulled ahead of the group, her armor clanking rhythmically with each step. In a way, the rogue envied her, as well as hated her. She knew it was poor diet (which was comprised of mostly potato and apple-based foods and liquor) that brought her premature fatigue. But, she was also too headstrong and set in her ways to change at her mother's urging.

In an effort to not look like a woman-shaped slug, Claudia's pace grew brisk. She was now fronting the group, and just as she was about to power through a sort of stone archway, something prevented her from continuing. She bounced off of it, much like how one would if they were to walk into a closed door. The pain wasn't there, but still, she held her nose as if it was and stared at the empty space with contempt.

"Son of a bitch!" Cursed Claudia, still holding her nose at the bridge despite no real pain. "Will someone please explain why I cannot move on?"

Quentin giggled softly, though hid it behind his hand.

"There is a barrier in place to protect the burial grounds from intruders." Observed Merrill, who stepped forth at the rogue's cursing to observe what she was speaking of. "I think I can get rid of it."

Claudia took several steps back and observed the elven mage. She didn't cast magic, which the red head thought odd. Instead, she reached into her clothes and pulled out a small knife. This gave Claudia a bad feeling. She looked towards her brother, whose face had gone pale as the young mage slashed mercilessly at her wrists. Blood ran down her ivory flesh, but only temporarily. Moments later, she willed it towards the barrier with magic, which caused Anders to seethe both verbally and physically at the mere sight of it.

Blood magic.

Since Claudia wasn't a mage like Quentin or Bethany, she wasn't given the education from their father that they had. However, she managed to pick up on some of his teachings, either from listening in on her siblings discussing it or through her own curiosity. Blood magic was _always_ taboo, regardless of intentions. Regardless if your heart was in the right place. It attracted demons, and demons were, for lack of better term, charming. They would tell a young mage what they wanted to hear, tempt them with promises of power, or love, or whatever it was they desired. As such, Claudia had a very concrete opinion on such a practice. It was bad. It was not to be practiced, even by the most experienced of mages.

The barrier soon fell, and Merrill's wrists were healed with the most basic of healing spell, probably the only one she knew. She beamed with pride for her usefulness, but it was met with several stony expressions. Particularly from their healer, who looked as though he was about to tear her apart right then and there.

"Do you have no idea what you just did?" Anders bellowed. His words were less than a question than an outburst of frustration. "You might have just attracted a whole host of demons to you!"

Merrill bristled at the onslaught. "I know what I'm doing." She said calmly, not diminishing at all against his anger.

"She knows what she's doing." Grumbled Anders. "That's what they all say before the demon takes over."

"I only asked the spirits for help."

Normally, Claudia wasn't the pragmatic sort, though she could see that arguing was getting them no closer to performing the ritual and squaring away her debt with Flemeth. She stepped forth, placing a hand gingerly on Anders' shoulder to break him of his concentration on Merrill and perhaps give her an opening to say what she needed.

"I'm not a mage, Merrill, but in my experience, playing blood mage typically results in big, scary demons coming out to play. And, while I appreciate you trying to help us, I am too tired to be dealing with a bunch of demons who want nothing more than to grind my bones to make their bread—"

"—That's ogre's, Claudia." Interrupted Quentin.

"Whatever. My point is, I'm in a pissy mood and would rather avoid any more fighting, be it the verbal sort from you lot, or from demonic forces who see us as a feast." Claudia heaved out a sigh, already feeling the weight of being the voice of reason settling in on her shoulders. "Can we just go now? Before _Flemeth_ decides to grind my bones to make her bread?"

"Ogres!" Sang Quentin again, reminding her of her folly.

"Seriously, Quentin? I don't give a shit if it's ogres, or giants, or some other creature. I just want to get this over with."

In silence, they resumed their trek, crossing through the recently dispelled threshold and into an ancient graveyard. The headstones were so old that any script that was once on them was faded and gone from the elements. If Claudia had to wager a guess, she would say that this was an elven burial site, though she did recall Merrill saying something to that effect. Just beyond the graveyard was a small altar, with flames that burned seemingly eternally. It looked like veilfire, though Claudia had no real experience with it herself, only secondhand knowledge through books and word of mouth.

"Place the amulet on the altar, and I will begin the ritual." Instructed Merrill.

Claudia did as she was asked and stepped back several feet, falling in line between the two other mages as Merrill drew closer. The rogue half-expected her to slit her wrists once more, but she did not. She did, however, speak in Elvhen, ancient words that Claudia didn't even try to understand. In her lilting voice, the syllables were soothing and sweet and oddly calming. It was strange, because the red head was expecting something terrible to occur at any moment.

Merrill fell back several paces from the altar, and as she did, a miasma flooded the outlying area, stemming from the amulet. The sky darkened around them, and the whole mountain shook, like it would come crumbling down like a mount of dried dirt. Claudia clung to Quentin, and he, her. Both were afraid of whatever this could mean, mainly because it was them who brought it on.

Though, as quickly as it came, it went. Claudia opened her eyes and saw none other than Flemeth standing before them. She rolled her shoulders, as if she had been in a cramped place for far too long.

"Ah." Sighed the old woman, content. "And, here we are."

Merrill instantly dipped into a respectful bow and muttered something in Elvhen. It sounded like a greeting of sorts. Claudia was only guessing.

"One of the people. I see, so young and bright." The witch was observing the elf exclusively now, her golden eyes trained on the green of Merrill's. "Do you know who I am beyond that title?"

"I know only a little." Admitted Merrill swiftly.

"Then stand." Demanded Flemeth, sounding much more hospitable than one would expect from the Witch of the Wilds. "The people bend their knee far too quickly." Slowly, her attention turned to Quentin and Claudia, who had since recovered from the ground falling beneath them and were standing upright and without the need of one another. "So refreshing to see people who keep their end of the bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket."

Claudia shrugged. "Couldn't sell it." She joked, receiving a dirty look from Aveline that she tactfully ignored. "Even when I tried to sweeten the deal by telling them it was possessed by a real, genuine Witch of the Wilds."

Flemeth laughed, the same raspy, dry laugh that Claudia remembered. She still didn't know whether to be flattered by the witch finding her funny, or to be worried by it. She chose the former.

"What are you?" Asked Anders, confused beyond even what his tone was conveying. "An abomination?"

The witch only gave him a wry look. "And you would know of abominations, boy." She spat.

Anders tensed. "I would. I am a mage. We learn of these sorts of things." It was clear that he was avoiding the fact that Flemeth had subtly called him out on being possessed himself.

"I am a fly in the ointment." Answered Flemeth without answering anything at all. "I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that, you need not know."

"What now?" Asked Quentin. He wanted to move things along so that they could get home. Claudia knew this well. "Are we square, now?"

"Destiny awaits us all, dear boy. We have much to do." She cast her gaze to Claudia, who flinched not at the attention. "Before I go, a word of advice." Flemeth turned to face the altar and took a pace towards it. Her gaze flickered over the mountainside, trained on the valley below. "We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment." Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper. "And, when it comes, do not hesitate to leap." Flemeth then turned to face them once more, still focused on only Claudia. "It is when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

"Cheap words coming from a dragon." Chorused the young woman.

"We all have our shortcomings." Said Flemeth, not missing a beat. Her head craned towards Merrill. "As for you, child: step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

Merrill slipped again into Elvhen, a thank you, Claudia surmised.

"Now the time has come for me to leave." Announced the witch, taking several strides towards Claudia and Quentin. "You have my thanks. And my sympathy." Without another word, Flemeth walked back towards the altar and began to glow with a white-gold light. Her shape twisted and morphed into that of a high dragon, and she flew away, leaving the five alone once more at the summit.

Anders' mouth was agape in shock, having been the only one who either hadn't witnessed the dragon that could shape shift into a woman prior, or didn't have legends to prepare him for such a sight. Eventually, he collected his chin from the ground and rubbed his eyes once, testing his eyesight, Claudia guessed.

"So, what now?" Questioned Aveline.

Claudia shrugged. "We look around to see if there's anything of value that we can sell, and then I'm going back to Kirkwall and getting so drunk that I'll forget this whole ordeal ever happened. Care to join, Quentin?"

He snorted. "Like you have to ask."


	18. Chapter 18

AN: I sincerely apologize, which seems to be a theme for every chapter I churn out, lately. My work schedule is currently insane and I have very little time to work on my writing during the week. I was going to write last weekend, but my older sister has been hospitalized due to complications in her pregnancy. And, I was going to have this done yesterday, except she gave birth to her baby Thursday, so I spent most of the day at the hospital, visiting her. Plus, I had this chapter about 70% done when I decided that I didn't like the tone of it and scrapped everything and re-wrote it from Anders' perspective.

Also, headcanon Anders as being 6'4" or 182.8cm, just to clarify that Claudia isn't super tiny in comparison. I actually headcanon him as the tallest human male in the series.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

 _We're celebrating tonight._

That was the last thing Claudia said before she dragged Anders by the wrist into the Hanged Man. She was deceptively strong, given he was nearly a foot taller than her and still she managed to get him into the tavern and a chair without breaking so much as a sweat. He would have looked to Quentin or Varric for sympathy, except the both of them had went off to pawn some of their spoils from their latest adventure and promised to meet them for a round of drinks after they did.

He couldn't help but think of the day's events as he watched Claudia enthusiastically remove her purse from her belt and begun discreetly counting the money she managed to lift off of the bodies of her fallen enemies. It was on her word that Faenriel, a young, scared mage, was able to have a second chance. She didn't even so much as hesitate when she told him to find a home with the Dalish. This wasn't the first time she risked herself for the livelihood of some mage (or mages) who couldn't pay her nor could they offer her much of anything other than gratitude.

Still, the way her spirited blue eyes lit up as she counted her coin resulting in a girlish giggle when she finished, it didn't bother her much.

That was why she _wanted_ to celebrate, if Anders was recalling correctly.

Claudia had counted her coin no less than four times since they slew the slavers who had the boy Faenriel captive and she stole everything off of them. And each time, she giggled and squealed and enthusiastically noted that they were only fifteen gold short of bribing Bartrand into letting them join his expedition. Anders didn't relish in such an excursion, himself, but he had offered his magic to she and Quentin when he gave them his maps.

His gaze lingered over her longer, more curious than frustrated as she counted out a healthy stack of silver and bronze coins, most likely to buy plenty of drinks for the night. When she looked like that, pleased beyond anything else and wasn't throwing herself into danger for her foolish pride and that alone, she was quite cute. Almost childlike, but also in a very womanly way that made him wonder why she wasn't swarmed with potential suitors at every turn. At a time, Anders acknowledged he would have been one such suitor, vying for the attention of a pretty girl whose dislike of Templars rivaled his, even.

At the thought, the man was hit with the idea that finding the woman before him even remotely attractive was a waste of his time. That he had a higher calling that did not include Caudia. That she was distracting him from his true purpose and he would be smart to leave her there, counting her coin.

It was the first time in a long time that the mage could pick his own thoughts from Justice's words. Normally, they melded in with his own, seamlessly blending to where Anders could no longer tell his own animosity from the Fade spirit's. Here was where he finally found the divide. Anders couldn't fathom how a willing ally would be a distraction, regardless of what they looked like or how he would have spoken to them prior to the possession. If Claudia wanted to lend him a hand in freeing all mages still trapped in bondage, he was ever too eager to accept it.

"You're awful quiet." Hummed Claudia, rapping her fingers against the table. Her coins were neatly stacked and it was clear that she was waiting for a bar maid to come up and take their drink order.

"You were busy counting your coin." Lied Anders. "I didn't wish to interrupt."

She shrugged passively, though her obvious dislike of not having a drink in-hand was beginning to show. After all, Claudia was here to celebrate, and Anders had learned quickly that her idea of a celebration was drinking until she couldn't see straight and passing out on the tavern floor. He was hoping he could dissuade her from such a plan, but he also knew that he was dealing with someone truly bull-headed. If anything, he would cut her off when she was getting a little too deep in the tankards and make sure she made it home safely.

Claudia adjusted in her chair and raised her arm up rigidly so she may snap her fingers and attract the attention of one of the serving girls.

"Yes! Hello? Can we get some service?"

"I'll be right with you, Sirrah." Said the young serving girl from a few tables over.

She approached in a matter of seconds. The girl was pretty, with round cheeks and dark hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. Too young for his tastes, Anders thought, but pretty nonetheless. Before asking for their order, she wiped her hands on her dirty apron. It was probably white when she started her shift, but now, it took on a faded yellow color from all of the drink that had probably been spilled on it throughout her shift.

"What can I get you both?"

Claudia smiled. "I'll have two...three—you know what? Just bring me a bottle of your finest, strongest spirits and a clean glass. And, whatever my friend wants."

"And you?" The bar maid looked to Anders.

"I don't have any—" The mage made to announce that he didn't have any money. Claudia, however, had different ideas. She reached across the table and held her finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

"—I'm paying. Don't be rude and reject my hospitality."

"You're insisting?" Asked Anders once her finger was gone.

"I'm insisting." She announced. "It'll hurt all two of my feelings if you refuse."

He snorted. "Fine, if only to spare your two feelings." Anders turned to the bar maid. "I'll just have a pint of ale. Thank you."

The bar maid left, leaving Claudia and Anders alone yet again. The rogue looked as though she had caught a whiff of something offensive. He quickly realized she was looking directly at him and was making the face at him.

"A pint? That's so...boring."

"Your point?" A younger Anders would have completely agreed with her sentiment.

"If someone else was paying, I'd order the most ridiculous thing I could think of. You know, four bottles of the finest wine they carry, flaming whiskey with an Orlesian brandy chaser...Antivan rum served off the navel of an Antivan concubine!"

"I think they're fresh out of Antivan concubine." Humored Anders, the corners of his mouth turning up into a slight grin. Claudia certainly had a sense of humor.

Claudia shrugged. "I hear the Hero of Ferelden has an Antivan concubine on reserve if we need one."

"He's an assassin." Clarified the man, making it obvious that he had been acquainted with the Antivan friend of the Hero. "But with the amount of beds he's fallen in, I can see why you would think he was a concubine."

Claudia sat across from him, looking like she had just seen a celebrity. "So, you know the Hero? Like, _know,_ know her?" She mussed with a bit of her hair that kept falling in her face due to her animated gestures. "Shit, I sit over here bragging about how I met the Witch of the Wilds and survived, but you met a real, bona fide hero of the Blight!"

"I actually met most of the heroes of the Blight and served with them when I was a Warden." Confirmed the mage. He was feeling suddenly sentimental and didn't mind so much to share details that would otherwise sour his disposition. Justice was complacent; some of the heroes were his friends as well. "King Alistair suggested my conscription, actually. And, I was at his wedding to his current wife."

"The elfy one?" She asked.

"Yes, the...er...'elfy' one. Though, I think she would much not like her elven heritage being brought up, given that some people in Ferelden still are not happy about their King taking an elven woman for his wife."From just over Claudia, Anders could see the bar maid from earlier approaching with a tray. Claudia's drink was the only visible one from his angle, mainly because she ordered a whole bottle of _whatever._ He jerked his head in that direction, getting her attention and causing her eyes to light up like the sun at the sight.

Claudia clapped her hands together and began pulling from her stacks of coins to pay the bar maid. The girl set their drinks down before them as she did so and waited patiently for the red head to deposit a collection of silver and bronze in her hand.

"Just keep it." Instructed the rogue, eagerly grabbing the bottle by its neck and the glass she requested in her other hand.

"Thank you, Sirrah."

Before Claudia had even a chance to pour herself a drink, though, Quentin and Varric were approaching. The woman didn't notice. She was too enthusiastic about the prospect of getting drunk. So, when Quentin swiftly pried the bottle from her hands and took a long swig, it caught her by complete surprise. She whipped her head toward him, making Anders not a least bit envious of the other mage at that moment; he was just happy to not be on the receiving end of her ire.

"Asshole!" She bellowed, pulling the bottle from her brother's grip and begrudgingly pouring the second shot into her glass.

"You love me." Said Quentin confidently, taking a chair from an adjacent table so he could join them.

"Only because we're blood." Grumbled Claudia, though even Anders could tell she was joking.

Claudia raised her glass to her mouth, preparing to finally enjoy her drink, when a man came crashing into the table they were seated at. Her bottle, along with Anders' pint, went falling to the floor. The bottle shattered on impact, flinging glass shards and brown liquid everywhere. In the commotion, Claudia lost her glass. She leaped to her feet, noticing the spilled drink on her curiass. The woman looked pissed.

"Son of a bitch!"

Anders was also on his feet, trying to see what had happened. Everyone else in the tavern was standing as well, and from what he could see, there was some sort of fight going on near the bar. Several people moved out of the way seconds later, giving Anders a better view of a dark skinned woman, most likely a pirate from her style of dress, beating several men senseless. Her combat style was not unlike how he knew rogues to fight, granted, she was currently weaponless. He couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere.

Quentin was at his side, jaw slackened at the sight of the woman. His eyes followed her and her alone as she bested the men she was fighting with and even seductively taunted them as they ducked out of the tavern hastily.

"She's gorgeous." Muttered the other mage in an awestruck stupor, resulting in Claudia giggling wickedly.

"I'm going to tell her you said that." She wasn't waiting for an answer; she was already on her way over.

"Claudia!" Quentin went chasing after her. "I'm a grown man and I don't need you _meddling._ "

Anders followed, albeit more cautiously than the Hawke siblings went. He foresaw an argument in their future, mainly because they seemed to take a sick sort of enjoyment out of needling and embarrassing one another. Or, the woman currently knocking back a drink and laughing to herself would not take kindly to Claudia announcing that Quentin found her attractive. The mage resisted the urge to heave out a begrudged sigh, knowing full well that he would have to rescue them both from danger permitting either outcome.

"Be careful 'round here." Said the lady pirate once Claudia was close enough to her. "All you are is tits and ass to the men, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

"Believe me, I've had my fair share of hands darting up my skirt to know how true that is. Most effective way to learn to break fingers, I find."

The other woman laughed. "A useful skill, indeed." She dipped into a courtesy, almost comedic in fashion. "I'm Isabela. Previously 'Captain' Isabela. Sadly, without a ship, the title rings a bit hollow."

"Claudia Hawke." Claudia mimicked the courtesy, lifting up the tails of her battleskirt as if it was the train of a ballgown. "I actually came over because my br—" Quentin was quick to clap a hand over Claudia's mouth. The rest of her sentence came out as muffled gibberish, though Anders distinctly heard her mutter _fuck off, Quentin_ towards the end.

"—Excuse my sister. She's a bit deep in the drink and says the damnedest things at her state." Quentin attempted a charming grin, but it looked more uncomfortable than anything. If Anders had to brave a guess why, it was because Claudia had licked his palm in an attempt to get him to remove his hand, but he really didn't want her telling the woman before them what he had said.

"You look Ferelden." The woman—Isabela guessed accurately. "I was in Denerim not long ago. _Met_ the Hero of Ferelden and some of her friends, if you know what I mean."

Suddenly, Anders understood perfectly a story his commander used to tell about her stay in Denerim during the Blight. He concealed a grin to himself.

"You might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have."

By then, Claudia had managed to wrestle Quentin's hand from her mouth. She gasped exaggeratedly, probably in an attempt to make her brother feel guilty. Once composed, she wore her crooked grin that Anders had come to associate with her getting chastised by Aveline for saying something off-color.

"Can't anyone solve their own problems around here?" Quentin sniggered at her sarcasm.

"Must be something in the water." Met Isabela without missing a beat. "Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel—if I win, he leaves me alone. But, I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

Quentin grinned cheekily. "I think I could manage watching your back for you."

Isabela chuckled. "I'll bet." Her voice was thick and seductive as she looked over the other mage like a meal she couldn't wait to devour.

"I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown after dark. I'll meet you there."

Isabela didn't wait for any of them to agree once again. She sauntered off, glancing at them from over her shoulder with a lurid expression on her face as she headed out of the Hanged Man. Quentin was following her every move, craning his neck just to get a better look at her until she was gone for good.

Once Isabela was gone and the tavern returned to normal, Claudia laughed in a fashion that reminded Anders of the stories of wicked witches his parents would tell him to scare him into being a compliant child. Quentin was unaffected.

"We're only helping her because you want to smother your face in her tits." Announced the red head savagely.

Quentin went red from the ears down. "And why do you think we helped Anders?" Mocked the man. "It wasn't because you enjoy doing charity work for impoverished mages living in sewers, that's for sure."

There was a moment when all present had gone silent. Claudia had first turned white, her jaw hanging limply from her face. She was unwavering, as rigid as a marble statue. Quentin wore a triumphant grin initially, his chest puffed proudly at the fact that he had silenced her. Then, he looked to his companions, his gaze falling on Anders. Then, a look of pure realization and horror slowly descended on him. Clearly, his calling her out was something he wasn't supposed to do in front of the healer. Varric was the only one unfazed by it all. In fact, Anders was sure the wheels were turning; he was chronicling this scene for a story he could tell later.

"We'll talk when we get home." Hissed Claudia, skulking to the door angrily. It was clear he hit a nerve. But, there was something else. Claudia's face had gone scarlet, though she was trying her best to hide it by hurrying out of the tavern so that no one noticed how flustered she had become.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: I'm in the market for a beta reader for this story, ideally someone who's reading for grammar, spelling, and content. If you're interested, send me a PM. That is all.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

The sky was still streaked with lingering pink and purple when Quentin and Claudia left the house to rendezvous with Isabela. Their mother, being the concerned woman she was, asked where they were going. Claudia lied and said to drink and pick up prostitutes at The Blooming Rose. Bethany giggled and told them to have fun, seeing the lies. Their mother didn't. She chided the young woman relentlessly until she made up a more wholesome lie about going to have a few drinks with Varric over a few hands of Diamondback or Wicked Grace. She believed that and let them leave without further intrusion on her part. Ser Biscuit, however, whined pitifully and gave them his saddest expression. He wanted to come, to be near his mistress and master. To meet their friends and receive love from them, too. Quentin instructed him to stay. He whined more. Bethany promised him the beef bone their mother was using to make stock when she was done with it. He wagged the stump of a tail he had and settled down.

Claudia was still pouting as they ascended the steps into Hightown. Quentin almost wanted to laugh about it. Almost. She was still quite upset about the happenings in the tavern, and wanted nothing to do with anyone because of it. That was why he asked Anders to stay behind on this one, as sure as he was that they could use his healing. There was no need to make things even more awkward and uncomfortable.

Varric, however, was going to meet them in Hightown. He was living for the swashbuckling adventure with a pirate who was as deadly as she was easy on the eyes. Quentin could already imagine the stories he would tell over a pint, having every patron of the Hanged Man hanging off his every word. No doubt the story would take on a life of its own, growing bigger and grander with each retelling.

As predicted, the dwarf was waiting near the market stalls, Bianca slung lazily over his shoulder. When he noticed their approach, he took several steps closer to meet them. It was Claudia's sour expression that caught his eye, though.

"Why the long face?" He asked.

Her pout deepened.

"You're still mad that Quentin called you out on helping Blondie because you think he's _cute_ , aren't you?"

Her side glance at him was deadly.

"No."

"Shit." Cursed Varric jokingly, coaxing a grin from Quentin. "With the way you're sulking, you'd think someone kicked your dog."

"They wouldn't be alive if they kicked our dog." The mage's response was cold, unlike his usual demeanor. He chuckled, though. "She's mad because they wouldn't give her another drink, on the house, after her first one was ruined because of the bar fight."

"That's why you're huffing and puffing and stomping all over the damn place?"

"I paid for those drinks and I didn't even get a sip!"

Varric laughed heartily, unable to contain himself any longer. Quentin joined in, throwing caution to the wind as his sister practically breathed fire in her rage. He would later swear up and down that he saw smoke bellow out of her nostrils, a story that the dwarf would surely back up fervently.

"It's not funny!" Bellowed the red head, throwing her arms down in frustration.

"It sort of is." Said Quentin. "You've been pouting and acting all sullen and glum because of spilled alcohol." He shrugged. "I honestly thought you were still mad about the Anders thing until I heard you muttering to yourself while flinging around stuff like the heathen you are."

"Don't call me a heathen."

"Don't act like one when you're mad."

Claudia folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't pouting-as much-but still appeared crabby. Her pace slowed, putting her only just behind her brother. He turned his head in order to observe the shit storm she was brewing in all its glory. Quentin only hoped that she would direct that unbridled frustration at their enemies. Still, he was just happy to not be on the receiving end of her ire.

They stuck to the side streets and alleyways in their pursuit of Isabela. She wasn't exactly clear on where to meet with her, so finding her was _interesting_. Quentin tried to assure the pair that he was positive she was looking for them as well. Though, he easily admitted that he could have just been optimistic that a pretty girl was looking for him.

When they did finally find her, she looked positively bored and anxious in equal measures. Her chin was rested in her palm, hip popped, eyes lulling around her surroundings in search of her new companions. When her soft, kohl-lined eyes befell him, Quentin's stomach leaped into his throat. Maker, she was pretty. He quickly abandoned that thought to recognize the look of concern on her face.

"I didn't think you would show." Admitted the woman, clearly relieved.

"I'm good for my word." Quentin managed an awkward grin.

They weren't alone, though. Within seconds, a swarm of armed individuals were upon them. Quentin thought that they were maybe bandits. Except better dressed.

"That's the bitch!" Cursed the leader. "Gut her!"

Several armed individuals surrounded them. Isabela instinctively went back to back with Claudia. She met this maneuver by drawing her weapons. Quentin quickly wove a spell for protection. It wasn't as potent as the stuff Anders worked. But, it was effective enough. Varric was already looking for higher ground to occupy.

Their opponents rushed them. Claudia and Isabela dispersed. He couldn't track where both women went. It distracted the bandits. This gave Quentin opportunity to seek ground further away. He was already working a small flame in his palm. Quentin liked fire. Fire destroyed things quickly and cleanly.

"Get the mage!" One of their attackers shrieked.

He could feel them hot on his heels. Quentin didn't look over his shoulder to confirm. They were _there_. He was outnumbered. Why wasn't his sister intercepting them? A fine sheen of sweat accumulated on his brow. The flames spread, climbing his arm. Past the elbow. Tickling the base of his shoulder. He burned like a pyre. Yet felt no pain. His two pursuers backed up in shock.

Quentin turned.

Quentin showered them in a fiery inferno.

Torrents of flames raged forth. The mage felt near-invincible. A force to be reckoned with. An unforgiving volcano. Lava flowed from his palms. It engulfed his enemies with no remorse. Somewhere nearby, Isabela cackled like a crone. He was unsure if it was for him or herself. Quentin assumed for he. His pride welled.

The bandits were nothing more than charred husks when his fire extinguished.

He looked on the field with renewed vision. Several more bodies littered the Hightown square. Some still steeped blood onto the stones. Others looked like human pincushions. Claudia was walking up, wiping her daggers on her leather leggings in order to clean them. She was grinning. A pleasant change.

"Nice showmanship, Quentin." She complimented, patting his upper arm to congratulate him. She instantly recoiled from the gesture and hissed in pain.

"Hot!" Howled the red head.

"Sorry." He lamented. "Still cooling off."

"Let me feel!" Demanded Isabela excitedly.

She strode up and cupped a palm around his bicep. Quentin felt the butterflies in the pit of his stomach begin their flight as his cheeks accumulated a bit of pink.

"It _is_ warm." Said the pirate, intrigued. "Could you spread this to _other_ parts of your body?" Asked the woman with a lewd tone of voice. "I once met a mage in Denerim who could do this amazing lightning thing with his-never mind." She held her tongue, though not without wearing a coy look that made Quentin assume that her remark ended with a deliciously perverted conclusion. Claudia's expression practically begged her to elaborate.

"Maybe." Hummed Quentin, toying with her. He hadn't even really tried, in truth. Now he had something to work towards.

"We should loot the bodies."

Isabela made a bee-line for their leader. She knelt down, sticking her hands in her armor and rooting around within in until she seemingly found what she was looking for. The pirate produced a piece of parchment. She scanned it for details; her face growing longer and more upset the more she read.

"This is Hayder's doing." She announced. "We should be able to find him at the Chantry to stop him once and for all, though. Follow me."

The four set off again, renewed. They now knew their destination was the Chantry, which reminded him of the night they helped their healer companion. The only difference was which sibling was flirting with the person they were aiming to help. Hightown was, luckily, empty except them. He didn't want to have to explain to some noble with their nose stuck in the air why they were charging through the streets, weapons drawn. In reality, he probably would have left that honor up to Varric, who was shockingly quiet. The mage figured it was because he was trying to commit all of the details to memory while simultaneously working out how he would tell this story the next night at the tavern. Quentin only hoped that he was depicted as a dashing and resourceful scoundrel, with good looks to boot. The dwarf was usually pretty good about downplaying his maginess.

Isabela charged up the stairs leading up into the Chantry, with Claudia in hot pursuit behind her. Varric tailed the group, due to his small stature, but still managed to keep up pretty well. Quentin subconsciously clicked his staff on each stair as he ascended, giving a rhythm to their climb that seemed to count down to their meeting with Hayder. It got his blood pumping and excited him. He couldn't say the same for the others.

The Chantry was quiet, except for the sounds of several people approaching. A man e lfronted the group. From the scowl settling on on Isabela's face, Quentin wagered he was Hayder.

"Isabela." He said. "Shouldda' known you'd find me here."

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time." Hissed the pirate.

"Castillion was heartbroken when he heard about the shipwreck" The name seemed to strike a chord in the woman. Her expression darkened. "You should have let him know you survived."

"It must have slipped my mind." Isabela took several steps forward, claiming much-needed ground in the fight the mage was positive would follow.

Hayder laughed dryly, an insult to the pirate. "Where's the relic?"

From the corner of his eye, Quentin saw Claudia's hands lace around the hilts of her daggers. They had reached a similar conclusion.

"I lost it." Responded Isabela bluntly. He wasn't sure if she was telling the truth. "Castillion's just going to have to do without."

"Lost it?" Spat Hayder. "Just like you lost a ship full of valuable cargo?"

"They weren't cargo, Hayder! They were people!"

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head and you let them scurry off into the wilds." Hayder took a step closer to her. The pirate stood her ground. "And now the relic's gone, too. Castillion won't be happy to hear that."

"Castillion doesn't sound like a very happy person." Quipped the mage, making light of the situation."Perhaps he needs a new hobby."

Isabela casually slipped a hand into her sash, grappling for something within it as she met Hayder's gaze directly. "There's only one way to settle this."

In a fluid motion, the pirate pulled a small hunting knife from her sash and threw it at one of Hayder's men. It struck the woman at his side, piercing her in the eye and killing her instantly. Hayder didn't need to issue a command to attack; Isabela's gambit was more than enough.

After Isabela tossed the knife, the real showdown began. Hayder's men swarmed them on all sides. The pirate instantly singled him out. Claudia attempted to cut through their ranks. It was to give Quentin room to maneuver the field. He offered a silent thanks and took the soonest opportunity.

Quentin willed his mana forth. Words of power were uttered. The Chantry became heavy with it. Several of Hayder's men ceased their attack. Claudia found something sturdy to hold on to just in time.

The Chantry began to rumble. Hayder's panicked battalion sought safety. Several candelabras knocked over. Quentin was only happy that fire didn't catch. They didn't need that. Their assailants went spilling to the floor. Unable to keep their footing. Quentin felt like a mad sorcerer that night. He enjoyed the feeling.

Quentin's man-made earthquake slowed. This gave Isabela and Claudia opportunity to finish off their opponents. Varric picked off anyone who managed to find their feet from the safety of the landing.

Only Hayder remained. Isabela was too happy to do the honors. She slit his throat. Blood poured forth from the wound like a scarlet river. Some bubbled from his mouth. He grappled at her. Attempting to take her down with him. She shrugged him off just as the light went out in his eyes.

Isabela looted Hayder's pockets, searching for something important that she didn't seem to find. She disappointingly stood, wiping her hands on her tunic in the process.

"Hayder doesn't have it, either." She huffed, obviously upset.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is this relic you were speaking of." Quentin's request was met with an expression that said that she wasn't going to humor him.

"I suppose I should thank you." It was unsurprising that she avoided the question entirely. "I wouldn't mind tagging along with you lot for further adventures. And—" She cut herself off. Isabela headed towards the exit, brushing against Quentin in a manner that made him think it had to be intentional. "—come see me at the Hanged Man later if you would like some _company_."

Them she left.

Claudia busied herself with collecting what coin Hayder and his men brought to the fight. She was giddy with delight, even going so far as to rub some of it on her cheeks and face in glee. Quentin let her have that. She looked like a nutty miser, but at least she was happy. She'd probably go on a shopping spree in the morning. And drag him with. She _did_ want to get new leathers. He'd splurge and buy some new boots as well. The soles of the ones he was currently wearing were starting to get holey.

Still, he couldn't get Isabela's invitation for _company_ out of his head. Quentin wasn't sure how serious the lusty pirate was. He didn't want to assume she was and offend. Or figure she wasn't and miss out on his chance. The mage looked pathetically to his sister for guidance.

"Oh, Andraste's lacy lingerie, Quentin!" She sighed. "Go after her. I'll tell mother you were drinking all night with Varric and passed out on his floor."

Quentin, elated, hastily kissed his sister on the cheek. She rebuffed his familial affection by wiping off the spot where he had touched her.

"You're the best, Claudia!" Announced the man.

"Whatever. Go before I change my mind."

Quentin sprinted out of the Chantry after Isabela. He owed Claudia later, that was for sure. But for now, he wasn't concerned with that.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: I wrote about 90% of this on my phone during my breaks at work throughout the week (I've been emailing passages to myself). I think I got rid of all of my weird markings that helped me to distinguish when to italicize text, but if I didn't, I apologize.

I'm still in the market for a beta reader. If you're interested, shoot me a PM. Thanks.

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Claudia was in a stellar mood. That morning, she got to sleep in, something she hadn't been permitted since moving in with Gamlen. Usually, he was stumbling home bright and early, just in time to catch her mother in a bad mood. They'd argue, usually about why Quentin and Claudia weren't paying rent, or at least buying food. The red head beat him to his favorite topic, promising to come home with her shopping basket filled with goodies from the market (for she had money to burn and wanted her mother in good spirits). Once Quentin was up and dressed, they headed to the market together.

They spent a couple of hours mulling over the food stalls. Mostly, it was Quentin talking Claudia out of filling the basket with only potatoes and apples. Even in their disagreement, Claudia's mood remained positive, which she was sure Quentin was happy for. Eventually, they reached an agreement, and a wider array of food was purchased.

The rest of the time was spent spoiling themselves. Quentin was fitted for new boots, which he excitedly talked about for no less than half an hour. Apparently, people underestimated the importance of quality footwear. It mostly went in one ear and out the other. Claudia commissioned a new cuirass and some leather leggings. The process of getting measured was invasive, but necessary.

It was a pleasant day, overall. A welcome change from what they normally dealt with.

"Do you think we should head back?" Asked Quentin.

Claudia was only half paying attention. She noticed Anders some stalls over, looking at the food but not purchasing anything. He hung back, like he had no intention of shopping. But, he looked _hungry_. He didn't charge for is healing, remembered the woman, so he probably didn't have much money to buy food.

"Follow me." Instructed Claudia, heading over.

Quentin hadn't even noticed Anders until they were nearly upon him. The mage pointed their friend out excitedly. They usually didn't see him outside the clinic unless they asked him to accompany them, he remarked.

"Hello, Quentin. Claudia." Greeted Anders, having noticed them before. Running into them in the marketplace seemed to have made him uncomfortable.

Claudia shoved the basket into Quentin's arms. He fumbled with it briefly before getting a good grip on it. The look on his face said he was pleased with not having spilled its contents everywhere.

"Run that home, will you? Bring it back empty."

He nodded and walked off. Either from knowing what she planned without the need for her to voice it, or he just wasn't in the mood to prod. Either way, she appreciated his compliance.

The woman linked arms with Anders, who regarded the gesture strangely. Unlike Quentin, he had no idea what she was up to and wanted answers. She grinned in response to his confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't have you going hungry, making your pretty face gaunt with starvation, because you're piss-poor and too proud to ask for help. I'm taking you grocery shopping."

"You don't have to." Objected Anders. He wasn't very convincing. "I'm a grown man."

"A grown man with no income unless he follows my stupid ass on dangerous adventures." Claudia wasn't pleased that he was objecting. Still, their arms were linked. He wasn't fighting as hard as he thought he was. "Let me buy you food. It can be my good deed for the year."

"Is this a pride thing?"

"This is a 'you're my friend and you're too thick to realize I'm trying to help' thing." She gave him a winning grin. "Let me do this." Claudia reiterated. "You can pretend it was an anonymous benefactor all you want once you get it back to the clinic."

"Your 'trying to help' usually ends in me stumbling blindly after you into danger." He flashed her a glimpse of a smile. "Fine. But, if we get attacked by bandits or the Coterie or something, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

Quentin returned a beat later, carrying the empty basket with him. Claudia was surprised it took him as long as it did; they lived just down the street. He forfeited the basket to his sister, who took it with what limited theatrics could be conveyed with the arm currently not occupied with keeping Anders cinched at her side.

"Time to go food shopping for Anders, I take it." Quentin didn't even bother asking. He knew the answer based on the cocksure grin his sister currently sported.

The selection at that time of day wasn't as vast as when the pair had gone shopping earlier. Still, the three managed to fill the basket with a bountiful selection of food. Whenever the healer would grouse about something being too expensive, or not wanting to owe Claudia anything, she waved her hand at him dismissively. She wanted to, the woman would explain, and money was currently not an object after collecting everything a bunch of dead pirates and raiders had on them. Still, it was clear he was grateful. Claudia guessed a wager that being in Kirkwall was his first real experience with living on his own without someone there to provide meals and shelter to him whenever he needed it. While the Circle wasn't ideal, she doubted if they let their charges go hungry. Same with the Wardens, but from the sound of them, that was one, big, drunken party, sans Darkspawn.

Dusk was just starting to settle in by the time they finished. Most of the stalls were beginning to close for the night, making their departure that much more necessary.

Anders had the basket of food, and was preparing to say his goodbyes for the night (and most likely thank Claudia and Quentin for no less than the dozenth time), when he was cut off prematurely by his fellow mage.

"Mother wants you to come have dinner with us tonight." Said Quentin. It was phrased more as a demand than a request.

"Mother was home when you dropped off the food?"

"Yes." Answered the man. "And she wants to meet this 'Anders character she's been hearing so much about'."

"Dear, sweet Maker." Groaned Claudia. "Kill me, now."

"What's so wrong about me meeting with your mother?" Asked Anders, clearly confused about the change in Claudia's tone.

"You'll see." Claudia was not divulging any more than she needed. Let the mage be surprised.

-Later, at the house-

Bethany was busy cutting up some bread when the trio walked into the small house. She turned her attention away from her task, long enough to offer a sunny greeting and voice her shock that Anders was there. Mother was apparently in the other room straightening up for their _guest_. The youngest Hawke giggled after announcing this. The fine hairs on the back of Claudia's neck stood on end.

"Sit." Instructed the red head brutishly, taking the basket from Anders and setting it down on the sideboard nearest the door. Biscuit was sleeping just under it, having not realized there was a new friend to demand attention from just yet.

"There are only two chairs." Observed Anders sheepishly. Bethany was sitting in the other.

"Sit." Demanded Claudia, firmer. "The chairs are usually Mother's and Gamlen's, but I hear _dearest uncle_ is pissing money away on cheap whores at the brothel right now, so he probably won't be home for dinner. You can have his for tonight."

"Shouldn't Quentin get the chair, then?" Claudia didn't know if the healer was intentionally being difficult, or if he really was concerned about chair etiquette.

"Just sit in the damn chair, Anders." Now Quentin wasn't asking. He had occupied his time otherwise with collecting some wooden bowls and spoons—freshly cleaned by the look of it—and placing them on the table.

Judging by the smell wafting from the stew pot hanging over the hearth, Mother made something with red meat and potatoes. Claudia began to salivate in anticipation.

Anders finally relented and took the seat as he was instructed.

The door dividing the sleeping quarters from the living area opened and their mother entered. She scanned the room momentarily, eyes eventually setting on Anders with a hopeful spark. Claudia rolled her own.

"Hello." Greeted the woman. "My name is Leandra. You must be the Anders I've been hearing so much about."

Quentin laughed. Claudia sighed.

Anders stood up to greet Leandra appropriately. He extended his hand for shaking, which the woman took quite greedily. "It is lovely to finally make your acquaintance, Leandra. I have only good things to say about your children."

"Do you?" She looked to Claudia suggestively, who quickly retreated behind her older brother and tried to look busy with reading the mail that had accumulated on the sideboard. Maker, this was already a disaster.

"Claudia, don't be rude." Chastised Leandra. "Get your friend something to eat. He must be famished, with how you and your brother drag him with you everywhere like he is your rag doll."

"But, Mother, I—"

"—Nonsense, Claudia." Interrupted the older woman. "Be a gracious host and get your guest something to eat. He is all skin and bones."

"I do not wish to be any trouble, Leandra." Anders' remark gave Claudia hope that her mother would cease riding her about how to properly host a visitor. And, as she recalled, it was /her/ mother who invited him, not herself.

"It's no trouble at all, Anders. Now please, take a seat while Claudia fetches a bowl for you." The rogue groaned internally, knowing better than to do so aloud. "Bethany, how is that bread coming along?"

"Almost done cutting it, Mother. Then, we can eat."

Claudia busied herself with filling a bowl for Anders. The mage looked at her with a pathetic look of apology. She remained silent for fear of incurring her mother's wrath. That woman was the single scariest thing in all of Thedas when angry.

"I take it Gamlen will not be joining us in favor of taking his nightly meal off the body of one of the...ah... _girls_ over at the Rose?" Joked the red head.

Leandra scowled.

"That isn't a nice thing to say about your uncle—"

"—However true it may be." Quentin was grinning madly. Judging by the expression on his smug face, he was living for the situation at hand. Claudia would have hated him for it if she didn't love him.

"Quentin!"

"Sorry, Mother."

Claudia finished ladling some of the brownish stew into a dish for Anders and set it down in front of him. He thanked her while receiving the end bit of the bread from Bethany, whom he thanked as well. With Bethany done cutting bread, she and Claudia got to work serving their mother and brother their meal and then taking their own. The four each took a bit of bread, and the children retreated to the floor while their mother occupied the other chair.

All was silent for a time, except the sounds of wooden spoons scraping against bowls. Anders finished long before anyone else, and helped himself to seconds. And again, thirds once he was done with that. Leandra watched in amazement. Claudia was not surprised. She heard, at Ostagar when she was sneaking around and listening for juicy gossip, that the Gray Wardens, for whatever reason, consumed much more food than any of the other soldiers there. She chanced upon a particularly funny tale of a Warden named Alistair (she wondered now if he was one and the same as the King with the same name) sneaking into the larder after lights out and devouring everything in sight, much to the humor of his fellow Wardens.

After Anders finished his third serving, and appeared as though he could clear away at least two more, no problem, Leandra looked both shocked and amazed.

"Maker's Breath, you were hungry." Announced the woman. Her own bowl still had a bit of food in it.

"It's something to do with the Joining Ritual when becoming a Gray Warden." Explained The healer vaguely. "You get this insatiable appetite, among other things. I served with this Warden, a tiny waif of an elf who could clear the entire larder on her own after particularly intensive training. She was a warrior, though—a berserker—so I wonder if part of it had to do with that." He laughed to himself, recalling a particularly fond memory. "One time I came in after training, and she was sitting at one of the long tables in the kitchens with her mentor, this stout, crude dwarf who smelled like an alehouse and was the best damn axe-wielder I've ever seen. Anyway, they had eaten everything except the dates. The cook was /furious/, but my Commander, after she was fetched, just laughed. We all had to take a trip to Amaranthine to pick up some food supplies to last us until our stores could be replenished."

"It sounds like you had a great deal of fun with your fellow Gray Wardens." Hummed Leandra.

"Sometimes." Anders retreated back into his sullen disposition.

"Tell me, Anders, are you married?"

Claudia paled. She knew right then where this was going, and she did not like it one bit. Quentin was hysterical with laughter. He nearly spilled what remained of his stew into his lap because of it. No doubt, he saw where their mother's questioning was going as well.

"I...no. I am unwed."

"Are you courting someone, perhaps?" Leandra was looking directly at Claudia. The rogue desired nothing more than to throw down a smoke bomb and sprint out of the house.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Leandra tried to play her questioning off coolly. She wasn't fooling Claudia. "My children are unmarried as well. Quentin, I do not worry about so much. He is a man and still young enough to find a nice girl to settle down with."

Quentin's nose wrinkled at his mother's words.

"And Bethany, well, I do not worry for, if only to find her a man willing to overlook her /talents/."

"I will do just find in finding a partner for myself when I am ready, Mother." Said Bethany.

"Of course you will, Dear."

Claudia was already looking for an escape route. She could make a mad dash for the door, except Biscuit had since relocated to just in front of it was was snoring loudly in his sleep. Yes, she could easily clear the gargantuan Mabari, but not with enough time or finesse to open the door before she face-planted into it. She turned to her brother, who was wearing the biggest of shit-eating grins.

"Oh, shove off, Quentin." She grumbled.

"I saved my potatoes for you." He offered benevolently, perhaps trying to curb her growing anger. He even extended the bowl to her. There were still a fee lingering hunks of potato. Claudia snatched the bowl and ate them up quickly. It didn't help her growing embarrassment.

"It is Claudia the worries me." Said Leandra in a manner that said she was cycling through her other children in order to deliberately get to Claudia. "She is pretty enough to attract a husband, but I fear that she is deliberately scaring away any interested parties."

"I /do/ deliberately scare them away." Stressed Claudia.

"Hush, child. Anyway, my point was, I worry that no one will wish to marry her."

Quentin was cackling like a hyena, this time receiving a jab to the ribs from Bethany. It didn't hurt much, clearly, because his laughter continued for a moment before slowing to a stop.

Claudia was scarlet all the way down to the collarbone. She wanted to go outside, to get some fresh air and leave the conversation about her marital status behind. Her mother, it seemed, had different opinions. She was giving Anders a sideways look that made the rogue assume she was expecting a proposal out of him at any moment.

Anders, too, was flushed, having realized Leandra's implications. He pushed what remained in his bowl around anxiously, contemplating the right words for a lengthy moment. Leandra was watching him, though, waiting for his answer that Claudia really didn't want to receive.

"I am quite sure that there is someone out there who would be elated to have Claudia's love, if she decides to share it." His eyes remained on his bowl, terrified to look anywhere else. Claudia knew the feeling because she was currently experiencing it. "But, I have taken enough of your time. I should head back before it is completely dark. Thank you for the meal. And, thank you for the food you bought me earlier, Claudia. I will stop by to return your basket tomorrow."

"I'll just come by the clinic tomorrow and pick it up before I come back home, if that is alright." Suggested Quentin, eliminating the need for Anders to come back over. Claudia mouthed her thanks to her brother.

"That is fine by me."

Not giving Leandra a chance to entice him to stay and listen to embarrassing stories of her children's youth over dessert, Anders stood and grabbed for the basket off the side board. His motion roused Ser Biscuit, who languidly walked over to their guest and gave him a curious sniff. Upon doing so, the dog let out a great sneeze, causing Bethany to laugh.

"Does he make your nose tickle?"

Biscuit barked happily.

"I think he smells the magic." Explained Quentin. "He always sneezes whenever he sniffs Bethany or I, but never mother, Claudia, or Gamlen."

"Oh." Anders was otherwise disinterested in the dog. However, the dog was quite interested in him. The mabari pushed his snout under the healer's hand, begging for love in an invasive manner. The mage patted his head several times, more out of a desire to leave than because he was interested in the dog. Biscuit saw this as satisfactory enough, though, and retreated.

Everyone offered their goodbyes to the mage, and he left. As soon as the door was shut behind him, however, Leandra was wearing a smirk that made Claudia's skin crawl. The rogue groaned loudly, slumping against the wall in anticipation of whatever her mother was going to say.

"He's rather handsome, isn't he, Claudia?"

"Why is my opinion suddenly the important one?" She asked with an edge in her tone. A look was cast Quentin's way, begging him not to divulge about their first several meetings with the mage. He pantomimed buttoning his lips. For that, she owed him.


	21. Chapter 21

The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Quentin was ambling behind the others, enjoying the crisp night air at a leisurely pace. Sure, they were out getting rid of the rabble that littered the streets to entice Aveline into joining them on the expedition. Or, perhaps because his sister liked having a purse heavy with coins dangling off her hip. Sometimes he thought that Claudia was actually a dwarf in disguise. At least, from what he knew of dwarven stereotypes. Still, money kept her happy, which kept him happy.

Most of all, he was enjoying the view. Isabela led their excursion, and the sway of her hips was enough to keep him in good spirits. Anders was at her side, occasionally glancing at her, confused. Quentin only hoped that their healer didn't feel the same attraction he did for the pirate; that wouldn't be good.

Claudia and Bethany were behind them, but still in front of Quentin. They chatted in hushed tones, as to not rouse any of Kirkwall's sleeping residents, or to draw attention to their whereabouts if they happened to stumble upon one of the gangs they were looking to cleanse Kirkwall of. Despite the five year gap between his sisters, they had always been close. Probably because Bethany saw Claudia not only as a sibling, but a protector and a confidant. Since coming to the city, they hadn't spent much time together due to the high Templar population. It was nice to see them reconnect.

"I feel like I know you from somewhere." Observed Anders, explaining his sudden fascination in the woman.

Isabela turned her head lazily towards the mage. She still had a bit of blood staining her cheek. "You're Ferelden, right?" She waited only a beat, definitely not long enough to receive a response. "Ever spend time at the Pearl in Denerim?"

Quentin could only surmise that she was speaking of a brothel. Claudia seemingly had the same idea; her conversation with their younger sister was put on hold to listen in.

"That's it!" Exclaimed Anders, enthused. "You liked to hang around with that girl with the griffin tattoos—what was her name again?"

"The _Lay_ Warden?" She smirked with her words.

"Yes, that was it. You were there the night I—"

"—Oh! I remember, now!" Isabela was equally as excited, now. It was cute. "You were that mage who could do that electricity thing! That was nice."

Claudia had ceased walking, allowing Quentin to not only catch up with her, but also now be in front of her. It took her several seconds of jogging to eventually catch up with the other four. Apparently she had been rendered dumbstruck by their friends' conversation.

"So, you weren't just shitting us when you mentioned having experience with a mage that could extend magic to his…ahem…extension?" Suddenly, Quentin noticed his sister looking at his fellow mage in a different manner. He damn near gagged at what he figured she must have been thinking. Anders' response to the inquiry was no less theatrical than his own. Even in the dark of night, Quentin could see a pinkish glow about his face, illuminating his freckles that much more.

" Is your sudden interest in this conversation for academic purposes? Or, were you hoping for a…ah…practical application?" Isabela was grinning like a wolf.

Claudia's face went pale.

"What is with all of you, lately?" Groaned the red head. "Do all of you have nothing better to do than to analyze my sex life?"

"I haven't analyzed anything." Admitted Bethany sweetly.

"And that is why you are my favorite." Claudia took several large steps in order to catch up to the others. Upon doing so, she draped an arm around Bethany's shoulder to solidify her point. Quentin scowled, but only in joking. He understood his sister was as well.

There was a peculiar-looking dwarf hanging by the market stalls. Quentin recalled a request they had received, in regards to them scouting for work to pay their way into the expedition. Anso—he thought it was, and a dwarf. More coin never hurt, and he was all about helping Kirkwall become a better place, one dangerous mission at a time. So, he approached.

"Are you Anso?"

The dwarf damn-near leaped a foot in the air. When he turned to look on Quentin and the others, he was clutching his chest, like they had given him a heart attack.

"Sweet mother of Partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!" His eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "Are you the ones that mercenary told me about? The ones looking for work?"

"What gave us away?" Questioned the red head.

"My apologies, humans." The dwarf—Anso—lamented. "I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky at any minute."

"Dwarves are funny." Purred the pirate, obviously humored.

"Ah, but I digress. I need some help. Rather badly, in fact. Some _product_ of mine has been...misplaced. The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you could retrieve my _property_ , I could reward you. Handsomely."

"Make it worth our while and you have a deal." The clink of coin in Claudia's hand always persuaded her. Quentin was inclined to agree with her reasoning, there.

"Good! Just in the Alienage. It should be in an unlocked house. Bring it back to me, and you will have your coin."

The streets were barren on the way to the Alienage. It didn't take Isabela's observation, though she gave one anyway, for Quentin to notice. Even as they passed the Hanged Man, which usually supplied a steady stream of drunkards pouring out its doors, providing some semblance of life to Lowtown, it was empty. This filled the mage with a foreboding sense of dread; he had been really hoping forward to avoiding a confrontation.

In the Alienage, it was no different. The elves were all tucked away in their homes for the night; he wagered it was even less safe to be an elf and out on the streets at night, so he couldn't fault them. Still, he expected to see someone. And, what he got was nothing but Anders nudging him in the ribs when he started to fall behind.

They made their way into a small home, the only unlocked one. Not much different than the one they lived in with Gamlen. That was, except it was filthy, and nearly falling apart onto itself. Quentin didn't like it.

"Spread out." Instructed Claudia. "It has to be tucked into a chest or corner somewhere."

There were only three rooms to search, and the first was the entrance way. Claudia remained there, upturning rubble and pushing around dirt. She was frustrated, this the mage knew. Likewise, he was not too happy about the situation at hand. They didn't know what they were searching for, nor if it was even still there.

Bethany followed Anders into what must have been the bedroom. There wasn't much there, either, observed Quentin through the open door. Like Claudia, their search amounted to deconstructing piles of rubble.

Quentin was about to join Isabela in the spare room when she let out a pleased exclamation. Claudia beat him into the room to see what the commotion was about. Bethany and Anders followed after him. A solitary chest occupied the room. It was simple, but well-made. Sturdy, he observed. The pirate did the honors and opened it.

Empty.

"What the actual fuck?" Cursed Claudia, walking several paces away in disbelief.

"Didn't that dwarf say that there was supposed to be something within it?" Asked Bethany, exhibiting an amount of grace that seemed lost on her sister.

"Well, yes." Anders inspected the contents – or lack thereof—just to be sure. "Unless we all need to get our ears checked, which is highly unlikely."

Their conversation was cut short by the door to the small hovel opening. Several armed soldiers flooded into the confined space, weapons pointed at Quentin and company.

"Well, shit." Grumbled Isabela.

By some stroke of luck, Claudia managed to disappear into the shadows. In such a confined space, this was impressive. Isabela met two of the soldiers head-on. She wove and danced around them with precision. Anders whispered words of protection. It cloaked the group. Bethany was working a small blizzard in her palm.

Quentin floundered momentarily.

He hesitated from casting. In small spaces, he needed to watch himself. The mage resorted to using his staff as a melee weapon. Though, Isabela was cutting through their enemies quickly. Very few managed to get close enough for him to manage a hit.

It was all over just as soon as it began. Bodies littered the floor, staining the dirt floor red. Claudia, as expected, looted the bodies. The pirate was at her side, claiming what his sister did not. Later, it would be divvied up among the five.

"What a disaster." Bemoaned Bethany. She was looking on the dead critically. "Do you think this was a trap?"

"Perhaps." Claudia didn't sound like she even knew what was going on. "All I know is, I want to get paid."

"I like the way you think." Hummed Isabela agreeably.

"We should go." Anders suggested anxiously. "The sound of the fight will draw attention to the house, and we don't need to be caught surrounded by dead bodies."

"Relax, Anders." Quentin clapped a hand to the healer's feathered shoulder. "We're in good with the soon-to-be Captain of the Guard."

"Yes, well Aveline is a respectable sort and probably wouldn't brush this under the rug."

"You're right." Agreed the red head. "She'd pay us. But, I agree. I don't need her telling Mother about this and her flipping her lid because I'm out doing Maker knows what at night."

They weren't even ten seconds out of the house when another swarm was upon them. These ones looked Tevinter, with a mage in their midst. Isabela swore. Yet, dove into combat without second thought. Her brazen approach to combat allowed Claudia to go unnoticed. They worked well together, Quentin observed. Anders was alternating between magic and melee. His stance was almost warrior-like. It probably had to do with his Warden training. Bethany was hugging the peripheral of battle. She sent out bolts of magic where she could. Her abilities were supplementing the others. It was effective.

Quentin took to lightning. He liked timing clicks from his staff with the bolts. It made interesting. It made him feel that much more powerful. Though, he was conscious not to strike his companions.

They made quick work of the new crop of foes, though not without fatigue. Claudia was doubled over, catching her breath. Consecutive battles took a lot out of a body, especially when favoring Claudia's style of attack.

She was afforded no reprieve, however. A heavily armored man entered the Alienage. He set his sights on them and scowled menacingly.

"I don't know who you are _friend,_ but you made a serious mistake coming here." His head whipped behind him, possibly anticipating reinforcements. "Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

A man with armor to match the first stumbled into the Alienage. Blood was pouring from his chest, down his armor. A trail of it proceeded him. From the looks of it, death had come for him.

"—Captain—"

Seconds later, the soldier collapsed. Dead. This was followed by an elven man joining them in the Alienage. The elf was attractive. They didn't get many elves back in Lothering, no less ones who looked like that. His warm skin tone and white hair complimented the markings lining his face and body well. He was lithe, though lean, and had Quentin's full intention.

"Your men are dead. And your trap has failed." His voice was raspy, yet warm. If it were a pastry, Quentin would devour every morsel without a second thought. "I suggest running while you can."

The soldier grabbed the elven man roughly by the shoulder. This caused the elf's brows to knit together. He looked ready to attack at any moment.

"You're going nowhere, slave!"

The white-haired elf shoved the man off while simultaneously grabbing him viciously. One hand kept him close, whilst the other, adorned with a claw-like gauntlet, flexed anxiously. "I am not a slave." The markings upon his person lit up brilliantly, and he _reached_ into the soldier's chest. He squeezed something, presumably his heart, based on location. The soldier gurgled in agonizing pain. Blood poured out the point of entry, which was when the elf removed his hand and tossed the body aside like a broken toy.

"I apologize." Said the elven man. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so...numerous."

"We...we are unscathed. No harm done." Quentin tripped over his words awkwardly. Maker's breath, he felt like a pubescent teen all over again.

"Impressive." The elf hummed, pleased. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself."

"I am Quentin." He rushed through the words. "These are my sisters, Bethany and Claudia. And our friends, Anders and Isabela."

The elf nodded. "They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

The mage felt flushed suddenly. Granted, he knew the elven man wasn't flirting, but the compliment was nice, anyway. "It really was no trouble. We cleared out the house pretty easily."

"If I may ask, what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

"You didn't need to lie to get our help." It was growing increasingly hard to play things cool. His legs felt like jelly every time Fenris spoke and he was getting accursed butterflies in his stomach. He was just happy he managed speech.

"That remains to be seen." Fenris knelt down at the Captain's side. He searched the body, eventually finding something that caused his handsome face to sour considerably and halt his search. "It's as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront them before they flee. I will need your help."

"Will you be the one paying us, then?" Claudia clearly had a one-track mind. Quentin shot her a dirty look. She returned one.

"I will find a way to repay you, I swear. The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. We must confront him before dawn. Follow me."

They followed the elf—Fenris—through the streets of Kirkwall. Quentin was watching his every move. Partly because the mage was curious about how their new friend could run with a weighty weapon such as his greatsword strapped to his person. Also, he was curious about him in general.

Claudia apparently knew this. She rolled her eyes animatedly. "You're drooling all over yourself, Quentin." She balked, though in oddly good humor.

Color grew to the mage's face. All he could hope was that their new friend didn't catch her remark.

Their passage through Hightown was quiet and uneventful. The elf proceeded with a vendetta; he practically stalked the streets like a vicious predator. Quentin was happy to not be on the receiving end of that weapon of his. Likewise, everyone was silent, seemingly in agreement. He led them to an estate in the district that was nothing to scoff at. Well-constructed, palatial; the sort of place Quentin had only dreamed of living in. Though, if their mother had her way, the Viscount would evict the slavers from their familial estate and they would be moving in shortly. Claudia didn't believe it was possible without greasing some palms. Though, she did sneak in one night, judging by the story Varric told, and thinned their numbers out a bit. That was why they had a gorgeous portrait of their mother hanging in Gamlen's hovel.

Quentin held back the urge to laugh at the imagery of Claudia stalking the streets after dark, coated in blood and with the portrait tucked under her arm.

"This is the place." Observed Fenris. Anger burned in his forest-green eyes. "We will confront Danarius here."

Fenris apparently did not know the definition of subtlety. Nearly the second they were in his former mater's estate, he charged in, screaming like a madman. His cries for Danarius filled the halls. On more than one occasion, the elf was shushed by one of the rogues, who were all too happy to sneak through the mansion and slit the magister's throat as he lounged in bed after a long day of whatever it was they did between ritualistic blood magic and tormenting handsome elves.

"Danarius!" Howled the elf again, weapon drawn. He charged through a doorway that led into the entrance hall.

"Clearly, discretion is not his strong suit." Joked Claudia.

Isabela nodded in agreement, while Anders stifled a laugh with his palm.

They followed him into the entrance hall, which was easily twice the size of the house they lived in with their uncle. Everything was marble, impeccably beautiful and lavish. The furniture alone must have cost more money than Quentin had ever the pleasure of seeing.

But, he was afforded little time to be envious of how a wicked man lived.

Not ten paces into the entrance hall and he got a familiar, though all too unpleasant sensation. The hairs on his arms stood on end. And, when he looked to his other magically-inclined friend and sibling, they wore similar looks of unease. Seconds later, droves of demons sprang up from seemingly nowhere. Quentin had never encountered a demon before—and for that he felt lucky—and he really wasn't pleased about doing so just then.

The demons surrounded them; the six grew tighter-knit, backs pressing into each other. Some of them looked like shadowy fiends, while others were balls of fire with consciousness. There were many, though.

"Can we kill these things by normal means?" Asked Isabela. She was Asking Anders and he alone. He was the only one with experience in such matters.

"Not kill, no." Said the man pessimistically. He was working out a plan in his mind, this was obvious. "But, we can send them back to the Fade. And before you ask, yes, sticking the pointy ends of your daggers will work do the job."

"Good." Hummed the pirate, pleased. "I was going to do just that."

She jumped into the fray faster than the others. Her bold maneuver gave the others the distraction they needed. In the confusion, Bethany climbed the staircase, gaining ground. She could make it rain her chosen spell from safety. A smart strategy. Anders was swiping at the demons with wide motions. Pushing them back. Giving Claudia and Fenris room enough to escape.

Two demons locked onto Quentin. He gulped, watching them slither closer. His hands quivered. His grip on his staff loosened. Three steps back. A fourth. Demons terrified him more than Templars. Almost as much as the Rite of Tranquility. One of the demons lashed out at him, slashing his chest and drawing blood. That fear caused a surge in his abilities. A cage of magic trapped his foes. Quentin focused. The bars grew inwards. Pushing against the demons. They wailed and shrieked. The cage grew smaller still. Quentin focused, even through the sounds of death. His cage collapsed onto itself, crushing the demons.

The demons shrieked, withering away into nothing.

From elsewhere in the entrance hall, he heard Claudia cry out in pain. One of the fiery demons had tracked her and was cinching her arm. She did away with it quickly, but even aft his distance, he could see the irritated burns appearing on his sister's arm.

Quentin's injuries were minor. He couldn't feel them due to adrenaline. Anders finished off one of the demons with a well-timed bolt of lightning. It was about to tear into the elf. Fenris was too consumed with cutting the monsters down two at a time to notice.

What felt like hours of slaying countless demons was only minutes. And, by the time they were safe, everyone was fatigued, nearly to the point of exhaustion. Anders did rounds of healing. This was mainly concentrated to patching Quentin up with a wave of healing and bandaging Claudia where she had been burned. Fenris, no doubt, needed to be looked at as well. But, the elf went charging upstairs with an unbridled ferocity, sword at the ready. Surely Danarius was upstairs, summoning the demons.

Quentin wasn't so sure, by that point. With how the elf was howling like a mad dog, the magister must have heard him. And, if he really was as desperate to get Fenris back as the elf said, he would have taken the opportunity to greet his guests personally.

They followed cautiously. Fenris was kicking doors in, every he came across, but found nothing. It seemed someone had left in a hurry; many personal effects were still present, and furniture was upturned and a mess. Granted, Quentin couldn't be sure if the elf had been responsible for the mess and that he had just arrived into the room after the mess was made.

Fenris reached the end of the hallway, the group was following after him warily. Quentin was honestly surprised the lady rogues were still with them; they looked about ready to tear into just about every drawer and cupboard in search of shiny baubles worth selling.

"He's...not here." Grumbled Fenris, defeated. "I—I need some fresh air." Swiftly, the man brushed past them and headed out the main entrance. Claudia and Isabela took his exit as permission to loot anything that wasn't nailed down before following the mages out the door to see if their acquaintance was feeling alright.

"It never ends." Fenris had his back propped up against a pillar. His face was an intermingling combination of frustration and hurt. "I escaped a land of dark magic, only to have it burned into my flesh and my soul."

Fenris' eyes darkened. He was looking deliberately at the mages, like he would tear them apart presently. Quentin gulped. Up until that point, he had been nothing but cordial.

"And now, I find myself in the company of yet more mages."

It was Claudia that stepped forth, not Bethany or Anders to defend themselves. Quentin really didn't want her to say something, but judging by the fire she carried in her heart, she was about to unload him with a pretty earful. All the mage could do was hope that this didn't end poorly.

"Excuse me?" She spat. "These _mages_ fought for your cause. My brother and sister are good people who would never think to use their abilities to harm others unless in self-defense. And Anders saved your hide in there, on top of being a Gray Warden and a healer."

"Among other things, but let's not mention those." Somehow, the healer was remaining calm. Quentin imagined he was just curious to see where Claudia's rage was going.

"No matter how good the intentions, any mage can fall victim to the lure of blood magic or demons. You house vipers in your midst—it would do you wise to watch them lest they turn on you."

Claudia made a noise just short of a growl and threw her hands up in frustration. Her face was red from a surge of emotion; she looked like a pot about to boil over. Quentin was completely shocked that she didn't.

"You are just as dangerous as any one of them, and it would behoove _us_ to watch you." Her venomous words were hissed through gritted teeth. Claudia was trembling, doing her best to be on good behavior. Quentin would thank her later, when she was calm. The woman stormed off, very visibly upset.

Quentin was upset as well, but not so obviously. He was offended that a former slave—the sort of people he associated with so heavily and considered his kindred spirits—would think him to be such a danger to others. He hid his magic, never dreamed of using it to hurt innocent people, and was generally ashamed of his Maker-given abilities. If there was a way to shut it off, he would have by then.

Yet, he understood that Fenris suffered abuses Quentin could only imagine. It made him feel suddenly guilty for his sister's outburst.

"I cannot speak for Claudia, but I am sure the rest of us will do our best to be accommodating to you, should you choose to accompany us. That is, if you do not have a problem with associating with mages."

"I will keep a watchful eye on you. Other than that, I cannot be certain."

"I take that as meaning you will associate us without ripping our hearts out."

Fenris did not respond to that comment. "Should you need me, I will be staying in Danarius' former mansion." He glanced up at the estate, and then headed in, leaving only the three mages and Isabela.

Anders was seething from the treatment he received from Fenris, but was not commenting on it. He probably felt attacked, just like the rest of them. Quentin was optimistic; this would, hopefully, blow over by the morning. Even so, the healer had his eyes trained on the way which Claudia skulked off to.

"If I am the viper, then Claudia is the mongoose." He said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Isabela nearly choked. She looked as if she made some great revelation, eyes bulging out of their sockets humorously as she wore a truly wicked smirk. "I _knew_ there was something between the both of you! She was far too interested in that bedroom magic earlier for it to just be an innocent curiosity!"

"What are you talking about?" Asked the healer. "I called her a mongoose because she scares me sometimes. Like just now when she was about to try to destroy Fenris where he stood."

Quentin nor Bethany waited to see where this conversation was headed. They followed Claudia's footsteps, leading them straight to her, several yards away and in the direction of Lowtown. Her usual color had returned, but she still looked upset. She noticed them, but did not pull herself from her position just yet.

"Quentin? Can we talk a moment?"

"Yes...?" He wasn't positive he was going to like where this was going.

"I...I don't trust Fenris."

"Obviously."

"No! I mean...You were watching him very hard earlier, and in the day-dreamy, _I'm beside myself because you are so handsome_ , way. I don't think...pursuing him is the greatest idea, permitting I'm not completely off-base with the looks you were giving him."

Quentin rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. Claudia's concern was just, but at the same time, he didn't want her meddling in his love life, or lack thereof. Still, he appreciated what she was trying to do. The mage clapped a hand to her shoulder in an attempt to cheer her up.

"I hear your words and I will keep them in the back of my mind, but I am my own man and should make my own decisions."

"Quentin." Huffed the red head, exasperated. "I'm not—just, if you're so determined to chase after the elf, don't be stupid."

"I believe what Claudia means is that she loves you and doesn't want to lose you to a flight of fancy." Bethany's explanation hit the nail on the head. Though, Quentin was almost positive that was what their sister meant without the need of a translation.

"And I am very grateful to have a sister who jumped to my defense so quickly. I will remain safe, and I will proceed with caution, permitting my...er...ogling wasn't anything more than my sexual frustration being taken out on a good-looking elf with a sexy voice. I'm not even sure if I am more interested in him or Isabela, at this point."

"Okay, then let's go before mother becomes wise to our absence."


End file.
